That Loser
by Siriusly Odd
Summary: What if Hermione had an afro? What if Ron never cleaned the dirt off his nose when he first met Harry? What if there was a reason for the red cape found on early covers of the HP books? And what if Harry really was that much of a loser?
1. And then there was Pooter

I'm always on the computer at weird times when the mood to write something finally hits me, I guess you could say it was true now, seeing as it's 3 in the morning.

Enough with my blabbering and on to a story I've been dying to write for some time now. (With the help of my _loverly_ friend of course).

Basically, on the way home from camp, me and my friend got to talking about odd moments in the books and movies that really couldn't be explained, or just things in them that were _so_ easy to make fun of. So for your, and our enjoyment, me and Oddly present Harry's time at Hogwarts, rewritten……

That Loser

**Chapter 1: And then there was Pooter**

The lightning cast an eerie glow as it lit up the giant manor. It was a house right out of a horror film, and I'm sure if you listened hard enough, you could even hear the clichéd music drifting through the air. (DUN-DUN)

This manor, which happened to sit on the peak of a hill, was covered in green ivy vines, strangling the house's windows from daylight. And of course, in front of the house was a rickety run-down fence, that's gate swayed in the breeze. Zigzagging from the gate, up to the house was a narrow dirt path.

So with all this mysterious horror hanging around the house, it wasn't unexpected at all to see bats fluttering around near the skeleton-like trees. But it was odd to hear someone brightly humming a song in the middle of all of this. So we venture inside to find the source…

Inside was just as you would picture a run-down haunted house. Old and musty, crypt-like. Every room was dark, except the kitchen, it had the only light on in the house. And inside the kitchen was a small woman with curly brown hair, who was happily dancing across the tile floor, watering her plants. She was just about to spin off towards the next plant, when suddenly; there was a knock on the back door.

The woman was not very surprised or unnerved by this, even though it was in the dead of the night. Just curious. She carefully set down her watering can on the counter and shuffled over towards the back door. She pulled it open to reveal…no one. Puzzled, the woman looked around just outside her doorstep.

There. On the welcome mat, a letter. She bent over and picked it up, then, her eyes still on the letter; she walked back inside and shut the door. Once inside the house, the woman began to open this strange letter, wondering who had to talk to her this late at night. Slowly, she unfolded the note inside the letter and read the neatly scrolled lines.

Quickly, as if it had bit her, she dropped the note, screaming. She rushed over towards the cabinet drawers and frantically tugged them open, one after another. The force behind her pulling, causing the silverware to clash loudly against each other.

Finally, she found it in the last drawer. Reaching in, she extracted a huge butcher knife, gleaming evilly in the light.

She was laughing now, madly. Insane laugher echoing in the tiled room. She plunged the metal knife deep into her chest. Her laughter turned into howls, and pretty soon she was quiet; her breathing lapsing, coughing up blood. She lost feeling in her fingers, and they become blue as they gripped the handle. She was losing feeling in her legs too, as the muscles stiffened and the tendons tensed up.

She stumbled, her legs refusing to bend, hit the wooden table, and fell backwards onto one of her many plants that scattered the kitchen. The knife digging deeper into her flesh. Her vision was becoming hazy, as the searing pain in her chest became a dull ache.

Her blue lips separated, gasping for air. "_All f-for you…Edmund…"_

Her eyes closed, and in her last breaths her hands fell away from the handle of the knife, limp at her sides.

Then there was silence.

Silence.

The steady drop of blood onto the fichus leaves was the only movement left.

Unfortunately, this tale has nothing to do with haunted houses and suicidal women.

* * *

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way. It also happened to be Halloween in the year 1981, as our cameras zoom in suddenly to a house found in Godric's Hollow.

Everybody knew that Voldemort was after the Potters. So it was no surprise that if you weren't James, Lily, Harry, or their Secret Keeper, then you wouldn't even be able to see the house they lived in; because the Potters were in hiding.

But what was a surprise was that their Secret Keeper was none other than Peter Pettigrew. You would think that James and Lily, being the top of their class at school, would have figured it out. After all, Peter wasn't even as close to James as his other two friends. But he still trusted Peter over even Dumbledore. I mean really, look at his animagus form, he's a rat! A RAT! This just proving humanity's one true error, stupidness.

Anyways, on that All Hallo's Eve, Lord Voldemort planned his attack. Which really, no one was suspecting, the date being no different from any other date of the year. Oh, ok…it did have a bad rep as being the most evil day of the year, but that's not very important. With the help of Peter (whom Voldemort should have suspected would give him bad directions, him…after all…being a rat.) Voldemort successfully found and entered the Potters house, the day just happening to be Halloween (which made it all very dramatic none-the-less).

A bright golden light glowed around the back door as it swung open to reveal…Voldemort.

The Dark Lord marched inside to the living room, finding James there. Dueling stances were immediately taken.

"Scared Pooter?" Voldemort spat.

"You wish-wait… what? Pooter?"

"Yeah…James Pooter, the Pooters."

"My name's Potter!"

"Potter? What kind of name's Potter?"

"What kind of name's Pooter!"

"It's better than Potter!" Voldemort said, becoming hysterical.

"You mean to say you came here to kill my whole family and you don't even know our names?"

"Since when am I required to memorize peoples names!"

"You gotta be kidding me! After all went through, Voldy! The whole 'Thrice Defied' thing!"

"Look, I already feel bad enough! Ok?" Said the Dark Lord, tearing up.

James, feeling a little awkward, lowered his wand. "Here-don't cry. I'll uh-I'll get you a tissue." He turned his back and went to do so.

"HA! Your weakness for comforting crying, ugly, evil Dark Lords shall be your downfall! _Avada Kedravra!_"

A green light shot out of his wand and went straight…out the window. He missed.

"That was lame." James snickered.

"Shut up!" Voldemort whined, flailing his arms.

"Ok, ok, just get on with it."

"Ha, Potter, you blood-traitor. You will never see your loved ones again-"

By this time, he had to stop, because of a stifling-like noise Potter was making across from him. James was trying to hold his laughter in-but he ending up straying spit all over Voldemort and cracking up instead.

"_Avada Kedravra!" _He growled, he could still hear the bloody laughing echoing in his head even after everything was silent.

Stepping over James Potter's dead body, Lord Voldemort made his way to the stairs, then up to wee little Potter's room, the reason he came here for.

"Kill me instead!" Lily Potter screamed as he walked into the room.

"What?" he said, exasperated. This was a long night.

"Not Harry! Please not Harry!"

"Oh, ok, I'll just floo over to your second cousin's, Chad Potter, and kill him instead!" The Dark Lord rolled his eyes.

"Oh…that would be nice-"

"Move aside you silly girl!"

Lily blushed, "I am silly-aren't I?" she laughed, flipping her hand.

He had had enough. "_Avada Kedravra!"_

And with a flash of green light, his last roadblock was histo-what?

Lily wasn't dead. In fact, she looked very much giddy.

"This isn't possible!" He screeched in outrage.

"Hey Voldy," she said, "all you need is love."

"You should be dead!"

"Oh, I am."

"But-"

"But I had to tell you this before I died. Ha-ha-ha-ha-nana-nana-boo-boo! You'll-be-sorry-!" She recited in a singsong voice. Then fell over. Dead.

Voldemort, kinda freaked out now, drew his wand and pointed it at Harry.

"And they said you'll be my downfall, pathetic. Look at yourself! You don't even have a fashion sense!" Indicating to his teddy-bear clad pj's.

"Goodbye Harry Potter. _Avada Kedravra_!"

And we all know what happens from there. Let's move on shall we?

* * *

Harry Potter was a young boy of eleven who lived with his aunt and uncle because his parents had been killed in a car crash. It was all very sad and depressing. But what was even more pathetic was that poor, innocent, young Harry slept in a cupboard. Made to sleep with spiders and brooms and other nasty things. But it wasn't from his guardians evilness, no, Harry just liked mops. That's right, The-Boy-Who-Lived had a mop fetish.

And because of this strange hobby, Harry was often seen cleaning the house and lawn. Because that's just what Harry liked to do. He was weird. Another thing that made Harry weird was his emerald green eyes, untamable black hair, and an odd scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Oh, he also wore glasses, which were taped together. So now we can conclude that he was also a dork.

But these things did not bother Harry, because deep down inside, Harry knew that one day he was meant for greatness! Even if he was beaten up and bullied from his cousin; one day-when he was great- he would make them pay, they would all pay! THEY WOULD REGRET EVERY TIME THEY HAD:

pushed him in the mud

threw stones at him

gave him a wedgie

gave him a swirly

stole his shoes

made fun of him

AND STOLE HIS MOPS! Because with his great power, then they would all pay!

At that very -insane- moment of thought, someone knocked on his cupboard door. It was time for him to cook breakfast. He clutched his favorite mop to his chest.

Don't touch the mops.

* * *

By some unreasonable amount of luck, which we can say only happened because the author needed this to pop up in the storyline somewhere; Harry was taken to the zoo.

This was his first time at the zoo, he had heard many things about it though, wasn't it filled with lions and tigers and bears?

"OH MY!" screamed Petunia, out of nowhere.

Everything Harry had heard was true; he did have fun at the zoo. But they only had one more stop before it was time to leave. So they followed the yellow-brick road up to the reptile house.

Inside was dark and damp and cool. It was also decked out in green and silver, but this had nothing to do with anything and for no reason at all foreshadowed anything.

As fate would make it, Harry walked up to the cage of a huge boa constrictor. And because Harry was weird and slightly insane, he began talking to it. Only people who have no friends would talk to animals, and everyone would be going 'awwwww…' for the poor boy if they weren't already laughing at the dork for being friendless.

And it just so happens, that the snake talked back. But you might as well forget this now, because it never pops up in the storyline again, as I've told you before.

"Oh great big, evil snake, I am so sad."

"Why are you sssad?"

Harry gasped, shocked-like. "You can talk!"

"No duh, dipssstick- I mean, yess masster."

"Master? What, does that mean…like, you have to listen to me?"

"Yess"

Harry was really liking this 'great power' thing. Vengeance is soo sweet, no matter what the self help books say about it always blowing up in your face.

"Well, then, ATTACK DUDLEY!"

And for the same convenient reason that Harry went to the zoo and learned to talk to snakes, the glass of the snake's cage vanished, as it then did Harry's bidding.

"MWHAHAHA!" cackled Powercrazy!Harry.

So Petunia screamed, Dudley peed his pants, Vernon showed the world he was really a pansy, various people fainted, zookeepers were called in for help, and the snake escaped. Muttering back at Harry something that sounded like "Sssee you in two yearss." But that was not important.

Soon all good things must come to an end, and then Harry was locked in with his mops again, having realized that, against all reason, self help books don't lie. Unless the company has decided that it's more profitable, or they just don't like you.

By now you readers understand what the Dursley's did not understand. Harry was magical, that's why all these strange things were happening, but as it happened, even Harry was dense; so that's why Harry was very surprised one day to find a letter addressed to him.

On the first day, Harry got one letter. Which was taken from him.

On the second day, he got five letters, which were again, taken from him.

So Harry figured the next day when he got the mail he would open a letter in the hall.

Let's take a break and add up the things we know about Harry: weird, dorky, friendless, STUPID.

The third day Uncle Vernon got to the letters first and burned all fifteen. Harry was beginning to lose hope, would the letters keep coming?

* * *

Harry sat at the breakfast table grumbling, it was Sunday, and he would have to wait till tomorrow to try and steal a letter, but he doubted he could, because his uncle had boarded up the windows and the doors so that no letters could get through. So he sat there, sulking.

Just as he was about to stop pondering over the letters, and eat some food, a buzzing sound could be heard from the living room. Glances were exchanged, and they all made their way to see what was going on…

Hundreds of letters were shooting out of the fireplace. Harry was ecstatic; no fear of paper cuts would keep him from this! So he dove into the fray, trying to snatch a letter.

Harry jumped up and down, trying to grab a letter out of the hundreds that were very closely clumped together in the air. But. He. Just. Couldn't. Do. It. This is where we wonder if the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die failed gym; every single year. It was amazing that he made the Quidditch team; after all, his position on the team was basically grabbing small things out of the air. Why would his ability leave him now? When a blinded retard could do better than him?

"THAT'S IT! WE'RE LEAVING!"

A furious Uncle Vernon scooped Harry up around the middle and pulled him bodily out of the room. Quickly he was forced to pack and they all left the house, Uncle Vernon at the wheel driving them…somewhere. His face was red, he was muttering to himself, and his left eye was twitching. This couldn't be good.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Siriusly**_


	2. Harry the Wizard

I, unlike my friend, don't get up in the middle of the night to write. Everyone else in the house would probably think I'm a burglar and then, with one thing and another, I'd be in jail looking at fifteen years. And I couldn't help write this story from jail, having to drive back my insane cellmates with a broom. Or a mop. So, anyways, here I am.

Now, back to the narrative. Enjoy the next chapter of this very strange and twisted story.

That Loser

**Chapter 2: Harry the Wizard**

In a sunny little hamlet in southern Spain, a vagrant breeze wafted across a flowered field, bring the musty, telltale scent of rain to come. Crimson fichus plants on slender stems bent into the wind. A local shepherd boy, being both lazy and deaf, sat in the middle of the fichus field, hearing neither the tormented bleats of his sheep being eaten by wolves, coyotes, and ravenous traveling salesmen, or the soft murmur of the fichus, whispering into the wind.

_Edmuuuuund…_

* * *

But, as this story was not about suicidal women, it is also not about stupid shepherds, traveling salesmen, or rain on some plain in Spain. This story is about a boy named Harry Potter, staring out the window of a car driven by his maniac uncle, Vernon. Uncle Vernon had dragged Harry (and the rest of the family, which isn't doing much now but cowering in the backseat) to numerous hotels and relative's houses' over the past week, running from Harry's letters.

"Ha! Here, we're here!" shouted Vernon, who was, to his credit, foaming only slightly at the mouth. His face a quite becoming shade of mauve.

As it turned out, 'here' was a rickety old shack that seemed to be clinging only vaguely to a slippery rock jutting out into the sea. Uncle Vernon quickly pushed the family into the house, and locked and bolted the door.

Nothing of interest happened until twelve o' clock midnight. Harry lay on the floor, drawing himself a birthday cake in the dust.

"Make a wish Harry." He said to himself. He then blew out his dust candles, upsetting the dust and sending everyone into a fit of coughing.

"STUPID BOY!" yelled Uncle Vernon from the only bedroom in the shack.

Harry sighed, "I'll never do things right." He picked up his mop and broom and began humming and cleaning to the twittering of birds that have appeared out of nowhere. Pretty soon everyone is going to start skipping and singing and giggling when—

—There came a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" chimed Petunia in a singsong voice, only to be slapped by Vernon. "Sorry."

The knock came again, this time with more force, completely breaking the door off its hinges. It would have been a very dramatic moment if the giant menacing figure at the door weren't carrying a pink, lace-edged umbrella.

"Surry Amooot thaahhh." Said the large man in a heavy accent.

"Um, I'm sorry, what?" said Vernon.

"I suuud: Surry Amooot thaaaahhhh!"

"Sorry, one more time?"

"Suuuury Amooooot Thaaahhh!" The strange man began running around the room, waving his arms and spewing nonsense.

"Who are you!" said Vernon fearfully gazing at the giant man that no one could understand. Dudley whispered something to Petunia.

"Rubeus Hagrid, and I came for Harry."

"See Dudley, he isn't a blathering idiot, he can speak proper English!" said Petunia.

"And you must be Harry!" said Hagrid, walking up to Dudley, as Harry was conveniently out of sight, cleaning. "I must admit, you're a bit fatter and uglier than I'd hoped."

"But I'm not Harry!" said Dudley, outraged to be mistaken for his dorky cousin. "Take it back! Take it back! Take it BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"

"I'm Harry," said Harry, momentarily stopping his frantic cleaning.

Hagrid stared at him for a moment, "Of course you are! And, since I've suspected these great muggles haven't let you read your letters, I've come to tell you something…that you're a wizard, Harry."

Harry blinked at him, "What? But I-I can't be a wizard…"

Hagrid beamed at him, "Of course you are!"

"But I don't want to be a wizard!"

Hagrid look confused for a second, "Well of course you do! Wizards get to do all sorts of fun things like…ah…go to Hogwarts, the wizard school, o' course."

"And going to some school is supposed to help? School! Where's my motivation?" Harry crossed his arms and looked away.

"Ah, well, wizards get to…ah…do magic, and play Quidditch, and…"

"What's Quidditch?" asked Harry, trying to sound uninterested.

"Oh, players fly around on broomsticks and…"

"BROOMSTICKS! I looove brooms!" Harry's eyes lit up and glistened with tears, "Are there…are there MOPS involved?" Everyone in the room was silent, waiting for the punch line, or for someone to jump out of a cake and yell "Surprise! We made you all look completely stupid on national television!" (Or in this case, BBC) But nothing of that sort happened. Harry continued to look at Hagrid, completely serious.

"Ah, well, no. Just brooms."

"Oh, that's all right then. I suppose you can't have everything. Still, brooms!" Harry felt as if he were floating on the fluffy pink cloud of his strange, mop-filled fantasies. Dreams do come true!

"Here's your letter!" said Hagrid, passing Harry one of the letters he had been trying to read for the last week.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, reading aloud and following the words with his finger, "we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwatts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Hogwatts?" The name brought a mental picture of a pig with its tail in a light socket. Medium-rare please.

Hagrid turned deep red, "Uh, misprint, that's HogWARTS."

"Oh…of course." Said Harry, thinking Hogwarts wasn't much better than Hogwatts.

"Well, we'd best be getting to Diagon Alley to pick up your school stuff." Said Hagrid, heading for the door.

"No, I won't pay for him to go to some strange school and stare at brooms all day! It's a disgrace to our way of life. After all we are British!" Everyone in the room pulled out a cup of tea, raised their glasses, and toasted "To the Queen!", drained their cup, and threw it over their shoulder.

You may think this is strange, but I assure you, everyone in Britain does this. It's quite common, really.

After toasting the Queen, Vernon glared again at Hagrid, squinting his piggy eyes. "Who would run such a patently ridiculous establishment!"

Hagrid looked as if he were about to strangle Uncle Vernon with one giant fist. "Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me!"

Petunia smiled dimwittedly, "Can we insult him when we're behind you then?"

Hagrid's face turned red, and with a roar he pointed his pink umbrella vaguely in the direction of the Dursleys. Gold sparks shot out of the white plastic tip of the umbrella, directly towards Dudley, who had managed to keep his mouth shut through all this conversation. Four seconds later, Dudley started screaming.

* * *

"Hagrid," said Harry, now walking the streets of London a few hours after they had left the shack, "why did you give Dudley a pig's tail?"

Hagrid blushed, giving a random passerby the impression that they had just seen a large, hairy tomato. "Actually, I was aiming at your prune of an uncle. But that's not important, here; we've come to the Leaky Cauldron." Hagrid lead Harry into a dark, dingy pub complete with peeling brown paint and sickly green moss creeping along the sides. Hagrid pushed open the door and was greeted with a chorus of hellos.

"'Ello 'Agrid, the usual?" chimed a short grubby man from behind the counter of a short grubby bar.

"Not today Tom, I'm taking Harry Potter here," Hagrid nudged Harry with his umbrella, "to get his school things."

A crypt-like silence filled the room; all chatter ceased.

"Well bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!" said a strange woman. She ran up to Harry and shook his hand vigorously, "Can't tell you what a pleasure it is to see you back!" Suddenly, the whole pub, full of previously unimportant people, with strange hats, ran up to Harry including, although he was certain they hadn't been there before, a group of screaming girls with matching tee-shirts saying WELCOME BACK HARRY.

"Grimwealda Bugleweed, it's an honor to meet you!"

"Alabaster Cornelius-Argohousis, a real pleasure."

Harry nodded and smiled politely, quickly turning his head to Hagrid and hissing between smiling teeth, "Who are all these people and why do they have such strange names?"

Hagrid laughed, "I dunno, this is Britain!" The whole restaurant was filled with the sound of chair legs scraping on the floor and the tinkling of china cups.

"To the Queen!"

China cups were thrown haphazardly across the room. The bartender grimaced; it was seriously time to think about moving to America.

Harry felt much better, knowing that many, many, strange things happened in Britain, "Right, thank you."

"Oh, Harry, this is Professor Quirrell, he'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts."

Harry looked up to a pale man wearing a ridiculously large, hideously purple, and strangely bulbous, turban. "Harry P-P-Potter, c-c-can't tell you how h-h-happy I am to meet you."

A cold, strangely muffled voice coming from the back of Quirrell's head said, "I will kill you, Pooter! Mwahahaha! I shall return! Vengeance will be MINE!"

Quirrell smiled nervously at Harry and Hagrid, "Just one second, please?" He then rolled his eyes up into his head and started having a conversation with himself.

"I though I told you not to do that!"

The cold voice replied, "I am the Dark Lord!" the voice changed to a sulky whine, "I can do what I want!"

"Oh, just shut up for once will you! I am NOT going to keep covering for you!"

"What do you mean keep covering for me?"

"Oh, as if you don't remember my mother's tea party two weeks ago! When you started yelling at the croissants, I had to tell Mother that an angry gnome has taken up residence in my turban! I can't believe Mother believed it."

"Hey, it's not my fault you have a stupid mum."

"What! You were the one yelling at croissants!"

Quirrell was yelling now. The whole pub was staring at him, wondering how quickly they could run for the door.

"Hey, that croissant was Harry Pooter-shaped!"

"Why I let you share my body is beyond me!"

"Oh yeah, well who needs you!"

"You do! You don't have a body, remember?" Added Quirrell smugly.

"Curse you, you're right."

Professor Quirrell suddenly thumped the back of the turban with his fist and the strange voice faded to a few muffled curses and general grumbling. Quirrell smiled broadly and picked up a tray of food off the bar, "T-T-Toffee?"

No one seemed to notice the strange voice, and what does it matter, since I assure you that it has no significance whatsoever later in the book. None. So just forget about the whole thing.

* * *

Once everyone had a chance to shake Harry's hand, or in the case of the girls, tear off a piece of his clothing to sell on E-bay, Hagrid lead Harry outside to a brick wall behind the pub.

"Hagrid, what was going on in there?" asked Harry, frantic and missing his left sleeve (which, it might interest you to know, is now owned by a rather strange man in Peru).

Hagrid then told Harry about his parent's deaths and how he had brought an end to Voldemort's reign of terror by surviving the deadly killing curse. "It was a horrible time…anyways; let's go get your school stuff!" Hagrid cheerfully, tapping a couple bricks with his umbrella. To Harry's surprise, the bricks started to shake in the wall, then suddenly rearranged themselves into a huge archway.

Beyond the archway lay an entire city, full of people in cloaks bustling around with shopping baskets on cobbled streets, or staring at colorful window displays of racing brooms, or fashionable robes. Owls flew freely above the crowd, alighting on the peaked roofs above.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, gesturing to the amazing city in front of him, "to Diagon Alley."

"We'll go shopping in a minute, but first we need to make a stop at Gringotts, the wizard bank."

In the next forty minutes, Harry found out that his parents had left him a load of gold, something strange was being kept in vault 713, and that goblins don't like to be called 'My Good Little Elf'.

And so, after a quick stop at St. Mungo's to remove the letter opener stuck in Harry's foot by an angry goblin, they started shopping. Harry followed the school list in his letter, buying robes, cauldrons, newts' eyes, brass telescopes, and spell books. You know, the usual school stuff. Most of the day had been pleasant, except for that boy in the robe shop. What was his name? Oh right, Draco Malfoy, the one who wanted his robes to fit tightly across his chest, to impress the witches. Madame Malkins in the robe store had sighed and stretched the black material over his bony ribs. Suddenly, Draco's eyes had darted around the room to make sure no one was watching him. He leaned down and kissed his bicep.

"Don't tell the others," he whispered lovingly to his arm muscle, "but you're my favorite."

Harry grimaced; 'I hope I never have to see him again.' He thought. Next on Harry's list was a wand.

"Ah Harry, I've got to pick up a few things. Go over there to Olivander's to get your wand; I'll meet you there in an hour." Hagrid turned away.

Harry nodded to Hagrid and walked into Olivander's.

* * *

The room was dark and dusty, heaped with piles of small narrow boxes, some thrown haphazardly on the counter, some stored on their dusty shelves. Harry looked around for a shop owner, and stepped up to the counter.

A man popped upright behind Harry. "Curious," he said, "What can I do for you Mister Pooter?"

"Um…actually it's Harry Potter, and I'm here about a wand…"

"Of course, of course, step right over here and," the strange man, who must be Olivander, rummaged around in the boxes, withdrawing one, "try this. My wands are made of the finest woods and magic core ingredients available. Here, try this one: Hazelwood and duck."

"Duck?"

"But of course, duck feathers are one of the least known and most powerfully magical substances."

"Right, sorry." Harry would be sure to be more careful around the duck pond at Privet Drive in the future.

"Well, give it a wave!"

Harry took a deep breath and swished the wand through the air, promptly sending a jet of purple flames at Mr. Olivander's face.

The flames narrowly missed his head, coming close enough to singe his eyebrows as it passed. "No, definitely not." He rummaged around a little more, "Ebony and unicorn hair."

Harry waved the wand and a flock of parakeets flew out the tip of his wand with a dramatic flash of orange light.

"No. Willow and duck."

Twenty mediocre accordion players appeared on the top shelf.

"No, not right either. Here, white oak and dragon heart string."

Two bricks tied up with string appeared outside and took turns hitting a very confused looking wizard on the head.

"No, no, no. Willow and duck."

"Hey, I tried that already!" Harry was a bit frustrated, and more touchy than usual. The accordion players were really getting on his last nerve.

"Of course we haven't tried it already; I remember every wand I ever sold. Why, I remember when I sold your father a wand, the year was nineteen…eleventy twelve. I remember every wand Mister Pooter-"

"Potter."

"-and I remember your father's. Hazelwood and…" Olivander looked confused for a moment, "What was I saying?"

"My father's wand," Harry dutifully reminded.

"Right! Hazelwood and phoenix feather. Nice boy, James Pooter, nice boy."

"Um, that's Potter."

"What?"

"James POTTER."

"Nonsense! James Pooter, Lily Pooter, Harry Pooter. I remember every wand I ever…" Olivander blinked. "What was I saying?"

"You were about to give me a different wand to try."

"Oh, right, of course. Willow and duck."

"But I…oh, never mind."

Twenty more horrible accordion players appeared on the top shelf, possibly even worse than the last bunch.

"No. Cherry and phoenix feather."

A man outside screamed as a giant green tentacle grew out of his nose.

"No, definitely not! Greenwood and…wait…I wonder…" Olivander dropped the wand he was holding and disappeared far back into the shelves for a moment. He returned with a dusty box, just like all the rest.

"Try this."

Olivander offered no explanation, so Harry picked up the wand. Suddenly, the Harry Potter Movie Soundtrack played and Harry felt a gust of air whirlwind around his feet. The wand shone gold for a moment, and then everything went back to normal. Unfortunately, that included the accordion players. Parakeets flew around the store, pooping on the merchandise.

"Yes, yes, I thought this might be the one. The phoenix feather in your wand came from a special phoenix that gave another feather, just one other feather. That feather was in the wand that...now let's see, who did I sell that too? Oh, it was someone important, I know it was! Oh right," Olivander slapped himself in the forehead, "Voldemort of course!"

"Voldemort!"

"SHHHHH! NOT SO LOUD POOTER! HONESTLY, VOLDEMORT COULD HEAR YOU!"

"WELL I'M SORRY!"

"QUITE ALL RIGHT POOTER, I CAN UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE DISTRESSED AT HEARING VOLDEMORT'S NAME."

"IT'S POTTER ACTUALLY, AND MR. OLIVANDER?"

"WHAT IS IT BOY?"

"WHY ARE WE YELLING?"

'WELL I'M SURE I DON'T KNOW, YOU STARTED IT!"

"I DID NOT!"

"YOU MOST CERTAINLY DID! I REMEMBER EVERY…what was I saying?"

"You were saying, 'Have a nice day Mister Potter, enjoy that wand!'"

"Right, of course! Well, have a nice day Mister Pooter, enjoy that wand!"

Harry sighed, walking out of the store. He spotted a looming figure near Flourish and Blotts. "Hagrid, over here!"

Hagrid waddled over to Harry, holding something behind his back. "'Ullo Harry, did you get your wand?"

"Yes, and Hagrid, why does everyone keep mispronouncing my name as Pooter?"

"I dunno, after all, this is Brit—"

"To the Queen!"

Hagrid turned angrily to the crowd of diners at the café with their teacups raised. "I didn't say it yet!" Some of the diners had the decency to look ashamed, but most kept their eyes on Hagrid, sitting on the edge of their seats, cups raised.

Hagrid sighed, "After all, this is…" Hagrid paused, "Britain."

"To the Queen!"

Harry finally noticed that Hagrid was hiding something behind his back. "Hagrid, what's that?"

Hagrid smiled suddenly, "Why, it's your birthday present! Look!" Inside the cage Hagrid was holding was a snowy white owl.

"Wow Hagrid, he's beautiful! I'll call him SoruHOLD-THE-JAM!mcfarklegut... The third!"

Hagrid cleared his throat to keep from laughing, "Any," Hagrid coughed, "any particular reason why?"

Harry shrugged, "No, not really."

Hagrid smiled, "Well Harry you can't do that!"

Harry frowned, "Why not? Britain-"

"To the Queen!"

"-is a free country!"

Hagrid shook his head. "I mean that this owl's a girl."

"Oh," said Harry, "Well in that case, I'll call her Hedwig."

Hagrid laughed, "And a right fine name it is! Well Harry," said Hagrid, tapping the brick wall with his umbrella to recreate the arch, "it's been fun. Here's your ticket for the Hogwarts Express." Hagrid and Harry had reentered the muggle world.

Harry looked down at his ticket. "Platform 9 ¾? But Hagrid, there's no such-" When Harry looked up; Hagrid was gone, leaving Harry in the uncomfortable situation of having only wizard money from Gringotts in his pocket, and no way to get home. "Oh great."

Harry started the long fifty-mile walk home. "What I wouldn't do for a broomstick right now."

_**

* * *

**_

_**Oddly**_


	3. Enter Hogwarts

It seems I can't break the habit of night writing, oh well, one in the morning is better that three, right?

On with our tale…

That Loser

**Chapter 3: Enter Hogwarts**

On Harry's return trip back home, he discovered that the Dursley's had amnesia of the whole 'Hagrid, letter thing', and were more than happy to take him to Kings Cross a week later. Even though they swore to never let him leave to go to that magic school, which seriously confused Harry, because he had figured the Dursley's hated him.

But the point is that Harry was going to go to Hogwarts, one step closer to his hidden greatness!

So they loaded everything up in the car and set off, Harry's owl having mysteriously disappeared.

After he was kicked out of the car, his trunk thrown out after him, the Dursley's sped away laughing that Harry was trying to get on Platform 9 ¾. But Harry, being…well, Harry, didn't realize that there weren't such things as Platforms in half or quarter numbers. So he was pretty optimistic as he set off for his platform.

But then he hit a wall, literally. Harry ran right into the wall between Platform 8 and Platform 9. Picking himself up from the crash, he shook his head clear, and glanced around. He should have been near his Platform now. But…he couldn't find it. Harry knew he was in the right spot; there was Platform 8, and Platform 9. Platform 9 ¾ should have been right after that—but there was only Platform 10.

That couldn't be right, Harry thought, Hagrid was huge, smelly, dirty, emotional, semi-invalid, and certainly dense; but he didn't seem like a liar, so where was the Platform?

Harry stared hopefully at the wall for another five minutes until he gave up and went to ask for help.

"Ex-excuse me sir? Um, could you tell me where Platform 9 ¾ is, please?"

The man that Harry stopped to ask paused, then slowly turned to look at Harry apprehensively. "Platform 9 ¾?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I have to board the train at eleven, do you know where the Platform is, only, you see—I've never been here before..."

The man suddenly grinned as if he had just seen a mime dropped into a pit of spikes. "You want to get on Platform 9 ¾?" He asked again, half-laughing.

"Yes—" said Harry, getting annoyed. "I've nev—"

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" gasped the man, now giggling. He grabbed a woman as she walked past them. Her face screwed up in a snarl, as she was about to tell the man off—until…

"Tell her, what you told me." He laughed, trying to hold himself up against the woman.

So Harry told her, and she laughed too, then she too grabbed somebody from out of the crowd and asked Harry to repeat himself. By the fifth person, Harry knew he was getting no where. He glared up at the group and sulked off, back towards Platforms 9 and 10.

However, don't worry, because Harry was unexpectedly hit with a case of enlightenment. They were wizards! They could do magic! The entrance to Platform 9 ¾ must be like the one to Diagon Alley! To hide it from the muggles! So Harry, thinking he found the way to the Platform at last, strutted up to the wall between Platforms 9 and 10 and thrust his wand up against the brick wall, and began tapping random points on the wall. But nothing happened.

Harry frowned at the wall, and little kids laughed behind their hands and pointed at him.

"Mummy! Mummy! Look! That crazy kid is talking to the wall!"

"Don't stare at the hobo, Honey."

But Harry would not give up; he tried many different ways to get through the wall and onto the Platform. He tickled the wall, he shouted: "Open Sesame!", He drew a picture of a bunny on it, licked it, and started a random conversation with it.

"Hello Wall, my you're looking pretty today, would you mind opening up for me?...ANSWER ME!"

This only earned more laughs from the little kids.

He was just about to give up when he heard:

"Packed with Muggles, of course!"

There, a group of people with bright red hair and trunks just like Harry were walking towards him. Harry, putting two and two together, got five, and wondered where these people were going.

"Mummy, can I go to Hogwarts too?" the only little girl in the group questioned her mother. The red-haired child had on a 'WELCOME BACK HARRY' shirt on.

"No, Ginny dear, next year...Where in the world did you get that shirt?"

"A couple girls in Diagon Alley sold it to me for cheap, they even threw in a complementary Harry Camera, to help all young beginning stalkers." She held up a small blue camera, with lightning bolt designs all over it. Harry blushed unnoticed.

"But that's not important," continued the young girl, "I wanna go to Hogw—"

"No, Ginny!"

"—Don't worry Gin, we'll send you back a toilet seat." Two of the boys in the red-haired group answered her, grinning, they looked like twins.

The mother sniffed in disapproval, but dropped the subject as she peered up at the clock. "Quick Percy! We're late as it is!" she said, frantically.

And Harry watched as the tallest of the group, who had red hair and glasses, ran towards the wall that Harry had been working on for the last half hour, and disappear through it.

"Ok, Fred, George, your turn." She indicated to the two identical twins.

"I can't believe it, ickel little Ronnie is going to grow up." One of the twins cooed at the last and smallest boy in the remaining group, before moving. 'Ronnie' blushed.

"Stop teasing your brother Fred." The woman scowled.

"I'm not Fred!" the child answered astonished, "He's Fred!"

"Oh, right. George, Fred, get going!"

"Only kidding," 'Fred' shot back at his mother as the two ran through the wall and disappeared too. "He is Fred."

By then, Harry had rechecked his math and figured that these people where going to Hogwarts too.

"Ex-excuse me." Harry interrupted the mother's attempts at trying to wipe a smudge of dirt off her remaining son's nose; he pushed his trunk up to them. "How do you get on to the Platform?"

The woman turned around to look at him shocked. "Wow you're stupid, what a loser."

Harry really didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry dear, Ron's first time too." She said, as if the last sentence hadn't happened. "Just—run into the wall."

Harry, still oddly quiet, followed her instructions, not wanting to be insulted again, he was holding back tears.

But, she had been right, and Harry came threw the other side to see a great big red steam-engine train, with the Platform full of parents and students boarding and loading their trunks onto the train.

Harry, still a little awed at the fact that his nose wasn't broken, after he had run into a wall, silently wandered towards the train, planning on boarding and avoiding stares. It was all going accordingly, except, he couldn't lift his trunk up the steps.

"Need some help?" The two twin redheads that he had seen earlier appeared beside him.

"Oh, um, yeah…" And together they heaved the trunk up the stairs.

"T-thanks," Harry stuttered, wiping the sweat from his face, and brushing back his bangs in the process, revealing his forehead.

"No prob—" The two boys paused, staring wide-eyed at his scar.

"So you're Harry Potter…" Said the one on the right, breaking into a grin.

The one on the left clicked his tongue, tutting. "…Man, I thought you'd be cooler."

"Lame," the other one agreed. "how disappointing."

"Let's go Fred," the twin on the left concluded, "it's not going to get any better than this."

"I mean—what a loser!" the other muttered as they walked away.

Harry—trying to fight back tears again, for the second time—walked dejectedly (with a touch of self-pity) to an empty compartment, wanting to be alone in his embarrassment.

That was the reason Harry wasn't too happy to see another red-head of the bunch, enter his compartment a couple minutes later. It was the smallest boy in the family, 'Ronnie'.

"C-c-can I sit here?" He questioned nervously, "All the other compartments are full."

Harry eyed him warily, having been already called a loser three times by his family. "…All right…"

The boy sighed gratefully, and sat down opposite from him, looking at the floor, or out the window, avoiding Harry's eyes. It was only then that Harry got a good look at 'Ronnie'.

All over his face was dirt smudges, and right across the center of his face was a big slab of caked mud; there appeared to be a couple worms flailing from the mud.

Harry winced, he had messy hair, but it was nothing like this.

"So you're Harry Potter." Said 'Ronnie' thickly, out of nowhere. He turned his head sharply to look at Harry, mud flying from his face and splattering the windows.

Harry furrowed his brows. "Yeah…." He answered slowly.

The boy across from him smiled. "I'm Ron Weasley."

"That's…that's…that's something…" Harry replied lamely.

The compartment door slid open and a pump witch with frizzy grey hair appeared.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

"No," Ron spoke up. "I can't pay—I—I'm good."

Harry, mad at Ron's family, bought about everything from it, just to spite him.

"So," Said Harry, after the witch left. He chomped into his chocolate frog and just barely hid his smirk. "you're poor."

Ron flushed, his ears turning bright red.

"We're both losers!" Harry motioned between himself and Ron.

Ron looked up brightly, "Yeah…"

Pretty soon they were both getting along greatly, Harry forgiving Ron for his family, and Ron forgiving Harry about his 'poor' crack.

They had just finished up most of the chocolate frogs when Harry reached over and picked up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Ron suddenly paled. "Careful Harry," he warned, "when they say every flavor, they mean every flavor."

Harry smirked, "Yeah, what's the worst that could happen."

"Fred got a poison ivy flavored one once, got hives all down his throat. And George reckons he ate a Michael Jackson flavor, he kept moon-walking and we had to lock him away from all his other brothers that are younger than him." Ron shuddered. "It was an awful week for me and Fred."

Harry gagged on the one he was eating and instantly dropped the box.

"What'd you get!" Asked Ron excitedly.

Harry coughed and turned purple. "Barney—!" he sputtered, before he lost control and ordered Ron to clean up the compartment and to wash his hands. The effects finally weared away only after Harry finished his dance routine to the Barney Song.

Ron glared at the box of candy. "I think we should save those for later…"

Then their compartment door was suddenly slammed open. Standing in the door way was a small girl about their age; she had long buck teeth, liken to a beaver; and a huge frizzy brown afro. Ron and Harry stared at her in shock.

"Have you seen a toad?" She asked breathlessly, "Only Neville's lost—"

The girl finally took a clear look at the two boys, her eyes widened at the sight of Ron, a worm crawling across the bridge of his nose.

"Ahhh…" She stepped inside and carefully took a set next to Harry, away from Ron.

"Neville's—Neville's lost a toad…" She paused and looked at Harry. "I suppose if we are going to be in the same year, we should get to know each other." She shot a quick glance at Ron.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she continued, "and you are…?"

"H-harry Potter." Harry stuttered at the brashness of this 'Hermione'.

"Ron Weasley." Ron replied, looking her up and down, glaring.

"Harry Potter!" She turned towards Harry again, ignoring Ron. "I've read all about you of course."

"Read about me?"

"Why yes, you're in: The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, The Reign of Voldemort, The First War, Child Stars, Dark Curses, Weird Scars, Midgets Who Get a Break, Lucky Bastards, and of course, People Who Shouldn't Be Losers.

Harry could only stare at her.

"Can I see your scar? She asked suddenly.

"Uhh…sure…" He pushed his hair back from his forehead.

Harry wasn't sure was he was expecting, but it wasn't what came next.

"That's supposed to be a lightning bolt, isn't it?" Hermione asked, as she was squinting at his head. "Only, it doesn't look like one."

"Hey…you're right." Ron leaned in, and he too was peering at Harry's scar. "More like the profile of Abraham Lincoln."

"Nahh…" Said Hermione, she had her hands up, her fingers making a box in director-like style. "It looks like a bunny."

"No-initials! Maybe Voldemort was trying to crave his initials into your face!"

Ron and Hermione started heatingly argue about the shape of Harry's scar. Harry blushed scarlet in annoyance.

Finally Harry's glare silenced them.

"Well it was nice meeting you—I best be off." Hermione paused at the doorway and turned towards Ron. "You got dirt on your-" Hermione stammered and held her hand up to her face. "uhhh…nose, did you know?" And with that she left them to figure out what exactly just happened.

A couple minutes of silence. "Hurrmmp! Can you believe that girl! Dirt! I don't have dirt on my nose, do I, Harry?"

Harry looked awkwardly at Ron, after all, it wasn't really dirt, it was more of slime and sludge and mud. "No."

Ron sat back down into his seat and smiled. "Dirt…I ask you…" he muttered to himself.

* * *

Harry and Ron unboarded the train, the ride was finally over, and they were both excited and nervous to get to Hogwarts.

"Fifst Yarrens!" A voice called out.

Students looked around curiously, "What was that?" Ron whispered to Harry.

"I think it was someone calling out."

"What did they say?" Questioned Ron, Harry listened again to the gibberish.

"Fifst Yarrens!" The voice called out again. It sounded familiar…it was! Harry could place the mad mutterings!

"It's Hagrid!"

"Hag-what?"

But by then the first years had got the message and followed the voice. They arrived on a bank of a lake, twenty or so boats lulling in the water in front of them, and a huge man sitting in the boat up front.

"Follow me, three to a boat!"

The students all piled in, not wanting to be left behind. And as the last kid reached his seat, they all began moving across the lake.

* * *

Violent storms threw waves up against the boats, smashing into the sides, there were terrified screams from every boat, but they could barely be heard above the vicious howling wind. The icy waters threatened them from below with their cruel black depths, and the sky threatened them from above with the burning wind and hard hail.

The waves were winning the battle against some of the boats, as they tipped their occupants into the water.

Something was afoot, it was calm not even five minutes ago.

Ron Weasley has standing up at the front of the boat he was sharing with Harry, his arms outstretched like a bird, his face pressed smilingly into the wind.

"Oh Jack—Harry," Ron whispered to his new friend in a surprisingly girly like voice. "I'm flying!"

Harry was staring in horror at the red-haired kid, where Ron had found that dress?

A sudden wave charged up against the boat and knocked Ron and Harry into the deep cold waters. Bits of wood from the smashed boat floated on the surface of the lake; Harry and Ron both swam towards a piece, they swung their arms over it, holding on to each other so that the fast moving waves wouldn't knock them under again.

"Jac—Harry." Ron whispered again in the girly tone. "I'll never let go!"

Harry, decided it was best if he just let Ron get it all out, but he was wondering if Ron had ever even seen Titanic, or that was some one was messing with them? He glared into the wind, who was doing this?

But before he could ponder this any more, a giant squid lifted most the students back into the remaining boats. Only a couple would-be Hufflepuffs were dropped into its huge beaked mouth, but who really cares about Hufflepuffs? If it was hungry again, Harry won't mind pushing in some more would-be Hufflepuffs and maybe some would-be Slytherins to save his own skin. But really, now they're ripping off 2000 Leagues Under the Sea!

There was some embarrassed coughing and much blushing as the rest of the students tried to regroup themselves after the weird events. Ron was look particularly horror-stuck and pale.

"Harry?" he whispered, still bright red, "would you mind loosening my corset? I can't really breathe…"

"Um…a—and that was some of the side-effects of all the discharged magic from the school...but you should become immune pretty soon now...alright kids, umm…coming around the bend, you will get your first glance at Hogwarts!" Hagrid called back to them, slightly embarrassed at what just happened.

There were excited whispers being exchanged. The boats nimbly curved and the great castle of Hogwarts appeared before their eyes like a beckon of hope and light.

There were was gasps and a few disgruntle cries of outrage.

Harry frowned, dropping Ron's corset into the lake. "I thought it would be more impressive than that."

_**

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_**Siriusly**_


	4. Classes and Crazies

NOTE TO READERS: With these comments I would like to open the chapter. This chapter was written at the reasonable hour of 9:49 AM. No animals were injured in the making of this production. Caution: Wet Floor. Edmund! Blubber. Nitwit. Tweak. That is all. So, keep your legs and arms inside the vehicle (safety first!), and enjoy the chapter.

Actually I don't know why I'm this way...maybe it's hereditary.

That Loser

**Chapter 4: Classes and Crazies **

"You know, this really is a disappointment. I read all about Hogwarts in Hogwarts, A History, I had expected the actual building to be much more impressive." Hermione the fro girl hadn't stopped talking about the castle since the first years had gotten off the boats.

"So, what happens now?" Harry asked Ron, his eyes inadvertently drawn to the worm wriggling in the mud clod on Ron's nose.

"Oh, they sort us into houses. You know: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Shufflepuff."

Hermione cleared her throat, "It's actually Hufflepuff." She pointed to the word Hufflepuff and a picture of a yellow and black banner in a book called The Four Noble Houses of Hogwarts.

Ron muttered, "Mumblemumblethinksshe'ssosmartmumblehufflepuffmumble." Ron sniffed and wiped his nose, liberating a worm that inched slowly towards the freedom of the Hogwarts fichus.

A sudden breeze stirred, ruffling Harry's hair. The whistle of the wind seemed for a moment to carry a voice. A woman's voice, whispering _"Edmuuuuuuuund..."_

But, no one noticed this, since they were all much to busy worrying about the crazy rumors that had started about how they would be sorted. One boy with a crooked nose sweared that Dumbledore was going to throw pies full of acid at them. A blonde girl with a large mole on her nose knew for a fact that the whole sorting thing was a myth, all the students were just dumped into The Pit Of Doom until the end of the term. Ron whispered to Harry that Fred and George had told him that medieval torture devices and string cheese were involved. Hermione was certain that she knew the answer, and was babbling on about how some talking hat was going to sort them, as she had read from: Notable Advancements in Sorting Over the Last Millennium. Yeah right, nice try Hermione.

Harry was about to voice his agreement with a theory about sorting according to how much corned beef you could eat in ten seconds when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he heard a drawling voice. "So the rumors are true, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

Harry turned around to see a boy he recognized from the robe shop in Diagon Alley.

"You shouldn't associate with such..." the boy looked at Ron with clear distaste, "filth."

Ron's face turned bright red, "I am not filth!" A dandelion sprouted from the dirt clod on his face.

The boy smirked, "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I can help you with your...obvious friend problem." Draco stuck out his hand.

Harry looked at Draco, remembering the self absorbed jerk in the robe shop, then looked back at Ron, who was looking cross-eyed at his nose, trying to figure out what everyone was laughing about. It was quite a decision. Which was worse? He had already been embarrassed at his odd school for being a loser; did he really want to start a new school like the last? But, this _was_ Harry, so…

Harry looked back at Draco, who had an overconfident grin on his face. "No way," thought Harry, "not over my dead body."

"THAT CAN BE ARRANGED! MWAHAHA! I'LL GET YOU POOTER!" Professor Quirrell walked by, that strange muffled voice coming from his turban again. "G-g-good afternoon s-s-students. The s-s-sorting's about to s-s-start." He quickly opened the heavy doors and stepped inside.

Draco cleared his throat, "Well Potter, are you going to accept my generous offer, or are we going to be mortal enemies?"

"Mortal enemies," said Harry, "Ron may have personal hygiene problems, but at least he's not a jerk like you."

At that rather opportune moment, the huge doors to the Great Hall opened, and a professor calling herself McGogagle, or McDowell, or something like that ushered them inside. All Harry could remember was that it reminded him of fast food. McDonald maybe?

* * *

Inside the Great Hall, it was raining.

"Raining? But how can it be raining inside?" Harry was puzzled, "Hermione, is the ceiling bewitched to look and act like a sky, or something like that?"

Hermione pulled out a copy of Hogwarts, A History from her robes, "No, they just didn't have a big enough budget and they never put a roof on the Great Hall."

Ron smirked, "That's lame."

The Great Hall was full of students sitting at long tables. All of them were wearing umbrella hats and grumbling about the horrid weather this year. The students, not the tables. I mean, that would be weird if tables could wear umbrella hats!

"Quiet please students, we will now begin the sorting," said Professor McFarkle, or whatever. A look of confusion passed over her face, and she mumbled to herself, "Now, is this a year that I read them in all alphabetical order, or read only three Gryffindors, two Slytherins, and a Hufflepuff for good measure in no particular order?" She tapped her foot for a moment, then her face brightened, "Ah yes, this is a year where I read all of them in something close to alphabetical order, right!" Seeming to have decided on something, she led the first years to a stool upon which sat an old hat.

The hat suddenly pulled apart from itself, revealing a mouth that had seemed to come from a busted seam. It opened its mouth wider and began to sing…

"**Yo, dawg, lay it down smooth…"**

Suddenly the Charms teacher started beat-boxing.

"**Ah, right, ah, right, ahhhhhhhhh RIGHT.**

**I am. I am. IamIamIam the HAAAAT!**

**And I put you were you midgets be AT!"**

It was short, sweet, and totally off the point, the little first years looked around at each scared and confused.

An old man with a long white beard stood up and raised his hands, "Welcome first year students—"

The boy with the crooked nose put his hands over his face, screaming, "NOT THE PIES, NOT THE PIES!"

The man, who must be the headmaster, Dumbledore, continued as if nothing had happened. "He must be a bit deaf," thought Harry.

"—let the sorting begin!"

A teacher sitting beside the headmaster suddenly flipped his long black hair and glared down his hooked nose at Harry. "Wow," thought Harry, "that was weird."

Professor McGonagall (that was it, McGonagall!) held up the list and read the first name, "Marcus Avery." She handed the old hat to a dark haired boy with shifty eyes. The boy put the hat on his head, and to everyone but Hermione's surprise, started talking.

**"Well I know exactly what to do with you, just like your family, eh Avery? I think you'll like this...SLYTHERIN!"** A table of rather cruel looking people under a green and silver banner with a snake on it cheered raucously.

Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry, "You don't want Slytherin, mate, there's not a wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin!"

Harry was totally confused, "Well, which do I want?"

Hermione, the fro girl, appeared out of nowhere and started talking as if the question were directed at her, "Well, Gryffindor seems by far the best from what I've read in Hogwarts, A History, but I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw either."

"I would!" said Ron, "My family's always been in Gryffindor! Imagine if I got put in Hufflepuff!"

Harry was still confused (yes, he is a bit slow), "But what do these houses all mean?"

"Well, Gryffindor is for the brave," piped Hermione, "Ravenclaw's for the wise and clever, Slytherin's for—"

"—The pure evil!" interjected Ron.

Hermione shot him a sharp look, "Let me finish! Slytherin is for the...well, we'll call them the ambitious, shall we? And Hufflepuff is for...the rest."

"You know," said Ron, interrupting again, "the people with honor and loyalty, and all that useless junk."

Harry was about to open his mouth and say that he didn't think those qualities were junk, when Hermione's name was called.

"You know mate, I hope she gets put in Ravenclaw so we won't have to deal with her on a daily basis!" said Ron. Harry laughed.

Hermione looked rather small as she walked up and sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall put the sorting hat on her head. Or at least tried to; Hermione's afro was presenting a bit of a problem.

**"Never mind!"** shouted the hat, as McGonagall was trying the force the hat down into Hermione's springy curls. **"Well, I can see that under your big hair is an even bigger brain. You'd be perfect in Ravenclaw. Heck, Ravenclaw was invented for people like you..."**

Ron cheered, "Yes! It's looking good for us Harry!"

The hat continued, **"But, just to be different...GRYFFINDOR!"**

The table under the red and gold lion banner cheered. Ron looked downtrodden. Harry patted his shoulder, "Its ok, better luck next time?"

Ron forced a small smile, "Yeah, thanks mate."

"Could you stop calling me mate? It really gets on my nerves I mean, you're not from Australia, so you have NO excuse!"

Ron, who was watching Horace Jefferies being sorted into Hufflepuff, looked back at Harry, "Oh yeah, sure. Sorry, mate."

Harry fumed, and almost missed the calling of his name.

"Harry Potter."

The whole Great Hall looked up from under the brims of their umbrella hats, could this really be THE Harry Potter? Wow, he's not as cool as I thought he would be...oh well.

THE Harry Potter walked up in front of everyone and sat on the stool. He wished everyone would stop looking at him, since he was sure he would end up in Hufflepuff, because, after all, he was a nerd who loved mops. Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head.

**"Ha! Harry Potter...wow, you're not as cool as I thought you would be...oh well. Where should I put you? You and your mop fetish would be right at home in Hufflepuff..."**

A girl under the yellow and black badger banner stood up, "You love mops? Me too!" Harry's eyes lit up. "Really! I mean, um, I don't think so."

The hat sighed, **"Well then, you also feel a need to prove yourself, so Slytherin would be good for you. But, with your failure to ever look at the consequences, and your blind bravery, you'd do well in Gryffindor. And, well, you're no Hermione Granger, but...oh, let's face it, you never were the brightest. Ravenclaw is not for you."**

Harry, holding back tears after the latest insult in front of the whole school, whispered, "So where do I belong?" Harry was sure the hat was going to say, "Nowhere, I'm sorry, there must have been some mistake. You don't belong here. Someone take him back to his aunt and uncle's to live out the rest of his miserable life."

**"Where to put you..."**

"Not Slytherin," thought Harry, "Not Slytherin."

**"Not Slytherin, eh?"** announced the hat to the whole Great Hall. The table of Slytherins scowled at him. **"Well then, if you're sure, I know just what to do with you... GRYFFINDOR!"**

Harry sighed in relief, and went to join the cheering Gryffindor table. At this point the Ravenclaws felt left out, since no one had been placed in their house yet. Really, Ravenclaw doesn't get many people each year, as most people aren't clever enough, or are braver than they are clever, or more evil, or more...loyal? So, finally, the next first year, Audrey Vickely, was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Ronald Weasley." called Professor McGonagall.

Ron was, of course, sorted into Gryffindor, then W, X, Y, Blaise Zabini (Slytherin), and the sorting was over. A huge feast popped up on gold trays on the long tables. Ron immediately started eating, stuffing more food into his mouth at a time than should be legal, or humanly possible. Harry was about to start into his pudding when he saw Hermione just staring at her  
plate.

"Um, Hermione? Is anything wrong?"

Hermione looked up, "Wrong? No! No, nothing's wrong! Why would you say that?"

"No reason. Why are you so defensive?" asked Harry abashed.

"Defensive! I'M not defensive! I mean, how can I eat while having to look at him." She pointed to Ron, who was making unpleasant slurping noises through a mouthful of soup. Gravy dripped down his chin. "I mean, his face is MOLDING for crying out loud!"

Harry looked interested, "Is it really?" It was. Now it was not only a food smeared mess, but also growing an alarming shade of yellow moss. Harry shook his head, "Ok, that is really gross, but I think there's something else to this. Is there?"

Hermione looked guilty, "All right! I forgot my book How to Eat in Public Situations at home!"

Harry laughed, "So?"

Hermione burst into tears, "But can't eat without it!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I mean really," Hermione sobbed, "I don't know HOW to eat without consulting the book first!"

Harry looked away, embarrassed. "Oh, well, er...that might complicate things."

Hermione continued to stare fixedly at her plate for the rest of the meal, picking up a fork, then muttering, "No, no...that's not right."

After the meal, Harry and Ron followed Percy, one of Ron's red haired brothers through the maze of corridors to a painting of a horribly obese woman in a pink dress.

"Ew. Now, I ask you, why would Dumbledore have such a revolting painting in Hogwarts?" whispered Ron to Harry.

"How DARE you!" shouted the painting.

"Er..." Ron looked startled and turned his signature color of scarlet red, "sorry?"

"Harrumph." snorted the fat lady.

* * *

The rest of the night went without anything particularly interesting going on, except Harry getting settled in, unpacking, etc. But, of course, no one is interested in this, so the story will now skip to the next day, when Harry looks at his schedule on the way to his first class.

"Potions--------Professor Snape--------Dungeons----------8:30? Who's...Professor... Snape?" Harry asked Ron haltingly and struggling with his heavy bag.

"Oh no, we have Potions first...and with Slytherin! This is a...nightmare!" Ron shook his head, wincing and breathing heavily. He readjusted his own bag. "And Professor Snape, he's a really mean one, Harry, he's... sheesh, do they have to make these cauldrons so darn heavy!"

Ron and Harry walked quickly into the dungeon classroom and got out their cauldrons. Draco sneered at Harry from across the room. Suddenly, Professor Snape swept into the room. It was the same professor that had looked at him weirdly in the Great Hall!

"Good morning class." said Professor Snape.

"Good morning Professor Snape." said the class, massaging sore shoulder muscles and mumbling about cauldrons and thirty flights of stairs.

Snape's eyes once again rested on Harry, "Ah, Mister Potter, our.new.celebrity."

Malfoy and his two enormous thugs snickered.

"Tell me, Mister Potter, where would I find a bezoar?" Snape smiled evilly.

Hermione, her book open, raised her hand immediately.

Harry felt extremely stupid, I mean, first that Ravenclaw crack from the sorting hat, and now this? "I…I don't know sir, what is it?"

Snape's smile faltered for a moment, "Ah..." his eyes darted to his desk, "hold on just a second." He ran to his desk, picked up a book, and riffled through its pages, muttering "Bezoar... bezoar" under his breath.

"Beryl...besprinkle...betwixt...bezel...AHA, bezoar!" Snape sneered at Harry, "A stone found in the stomach of a goat that can be used to cure many magical maladies, including poisoning by potion. Ha! Oh Potter, only an idiot wouldn't know the answer to that question!" Snape smiled proudly, and the class stared at him, wondering just how far into denial he had fallen.  
"Tell me Potter, what do you get when you mix crushed dragon fangs with an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up, quivering in the air.

Harry squinted, "Um...I don't know sir, do you?"

Snape's confident smile faltered, "Er..."

Harry blinked, "Well, DO you?"

Snape held up a finger, "Hold that thought." He ran back to his desk and picked up another book. "Dragon fangs in hat (top), dragon fangs and blood (unicorn), dragon fangs and worms (earth), AHA, dragon fangs and wood (worm)! Together dragon fangs and wormwood create a sleeping draught so powerful that it is referred to as The Living Death. Take that Potter!"

Even Draco was starting to look embarrassed.

Harry was feeling sorry for the mad professor, "Very good sir." He said consolingly.

Snape's eyes were wide, and he was drooling slightly. "Yes, yes, it was good! How about THIS one, Potter! What is the difference between—"

Hermione's hand shot up.

Snape turned to her with angry eyes, "What IS it Granger, you can't possibly know the answer to the question I was ABOUT to ask."

Hermione looked at him expectantly, her hand still up.

Snape sighed, "Very well Granger, what is it?"

Hermione took a deep breath, "They're both the same thing, also commonly known as wolfsbane."

Snape froze, "Uh..." Grab book, flip, flip, flip, AHA! After Snape had gone through his usual mantra, he turned back to Hermione, "Well, that was a lucky guess. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry (remember what the sorting hat said) could not control his anger and didn't think about the results of his actions, "For what!"

Snape turned to look at Harry, "For...for being a show off. And now it's twenty."

* * *

After the eventful and rather embarrassing Potions class, Harry (and the rest. You know, Ron, Hermione...the rest of the student body that's doomed to uneventful life. They wouldn't have to kill a Dark Lord in seven years.) went to their next class. Defense Against the Dark Arts-------Professor Quirrell------36A Tower-------10:30. Harry didn't worry too much about this class, he remembered Quirrell. He was the one with the strange talking turban and the  
stutter. Poor Professor Quirrell.

"This should be an interesting class," said Hermione to Harry and Ron, approaching the door, "I've been absolutely dying to learn about-" Hermione stopped cold with her hand on the doorknob. She quickly pulled out The Construction and Use of Doorknobs from her bag and flipped through the pages. "Step 1: Place hand on knob. Ok...Step 2: Turn hand  
counterclockwise..." Hermione turned the knob. "Step 3: Pull out forcefully on door." Hermione pulled the door open, sighed happily and looked back at Harry and Ron, "Now what was I saying?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, "Uhh..."

* * *

"G-g-good afternoon c-c-class. Today we'll be t-t-talking about v-v-vampires." Quirrell looked pale, as if he was afraid of his own subject. "Does anyone know what repels v-v-v-v...such creatures?"

Lavender Brown, a Gryffindor in Harry's year, raised her hand. "Um, wasn't it...paprika?"

The strange voice from the back of Quirrell's turban again, "PAPRIKA? You pathetic _loser_. When I am in power again I shall destroy you!"

Lavender Brown suddenly felt like crying, but had no idea why, as she could not hear the evil turban voice.

"No L-l-lavender. Would anyone else l-l-like to try? S-s-seamus perhaps?"

Seamus Finnigan looked up from the note he was bewitching to fly to Dean across the room. "Uh...wasn't it steak, or something? They can't eat red meats, right?"

Again, the muffled voice. "Idiot! Blood but not red meats? Your student is quite the genius, eh Quirrell?"

Quirrell only blinked, "No Seamus. S-s-someone else? Harry?"

"Um." Harry looked at Hermione, who flipped through a book, then mouthed GARLIC from across the room. "Garlic?"

"POOTER! I will destroy you, you and your friend with the big hair! Mwahaha!"

"That is c-c-correct, thank you Harry. And t-t-thank you Miss Granger."

Just your average, everyday, ordinary class in your average, everyday, ordinary wizarding school.

* * *

Harry stood in the lawn outside of Hogwarts, holding a broom. Of course, so was the rest of the class, but that wasn't all that important. Harry was holding an actual BROOM! He glanced at it lovingly, but then pulled himself back to reality to listen to Madame Hooch's instructions.

"Shout 'up' and mount your broom." she said.

Hermione's hand shot up, "Madame Hooch, isn't there a book or something I can read about this, I'm a visual learner!" said Hermione, exasperated.

Ron snorted, "Can't you ever think for yourself?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and got out The Big Book of Insults.

Harry stared at his own broom and sighed. He wasn't good at anything, and although he did love brooms, he doubted he could get it to fly. "Up." He said, surprised when the broom jumped to his hand. Maybe this was a part of his destined 'greatness'!

The lesson went on as planned until Neville, the boy with the toad, broke his wrist and was sent to the hospital wing. As he limped away with Madame Hooch, a small round glass ball full of gray smoke dropped from his pocket. Draco laughed and picked it up, "Ha, it's Neville's rememberall!"

Earlier, Harry had had a conversation with Neville when a package came from Neville's gran. Neville explained that it was a rememberall, which would help him remember things he had forgotten. Blah blah blah, fast forward to Draco with the rememberall.

"Give it back Malfoy!" shouted Harry

"You want it, then come get it!" Draco stepped over to his broom, smirking at Harry. "Up." Nothing happened. "Common UP!"

Ron snorted, "Nice one Malfoy."

"Shut up Moldface! UP! Listen stupid broom, UP!" Draco kicked the broom.

Harry gasped and said in a deep voice, "There shall be no broom kicking on MY watch!" He put on a red cape, which is often seen on the cover of earlier Harry Potter books (though I never was sure why). He stood, hands on hips, in the wind, his cape flying heroically.

Draco just stared, "Wow, you _are_ a loser." He finally grabbed his broom, took a running start, and rocketed up into the air. "Come get it!"

Harry got onto his broom and followed Draco. "Give it here!" Harry said with his cape flying in the wind. Heroic Moment Spotlight pans to Harry. Perfect smile (ching sparkle sparkle).

"Go get it!" said Malfoy, flinging it as far as his puny muscles could throw. Harry flew backwards a few centimeters and caught it with his eyes closed.

"MISTER POTTER!" Professor McGonagall was running across the field, "In my office NOW!"

"Oh great," thought Harry, "just what I need."

_**

* * *

**_

_**Oddly**_


	5. The Golden Trio

My Thoughtful and Considerate Message To the Fans:

CLEAN YOUR ROOM! DO YOUR HOMEWORK! TAKE A SHOWER! GET A LIFE! AND READ THIS CHAPTER!

That Loser

**Chapter 5: The Golden Trio**

Silently the professor and Harry marched back up to the castle, their happy little parade making its way through the deserted hallways, all the other students were in class. Sooner then Harry had hoped, they abruptly stopped. Harry quietly looked around and noticed that they were outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. What was Harry's punishment going to be? Was McGonagall going to have Quirrell spit on him?

The professor calmly knocked on the wooden door, then opened it wide.

"May I borrow Wood please?"

"S-s-sure." Replied Quirrell.

"WHAT! WHAT IS THIS? INSUBORDINATION!-Wait. I smell…I smell…POOTER! POOTER I'M COMING FOR YOU! YOU AND YOU'RE LITTLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN PROFILE SCAR TOO! MWHAHAHA!"

Harry, upon hearing the phrase 'Wood', was starting to panic a little. What was 'Wood', were they going to beat him? Or maybe—it was a mop prototype! Harry's eye's glazed over—no. It was too good to be true; after all, he was in trouble. But maybe—oh those twisted fiends! Maybe they were going to beat him with a _mop_, using his own weakness against him! Whatever it was, Harry was scared, that's why when asked about later, he told the people he had seen that day, that he in fact, hadn't wet his pants, he just fell in a puddle.

A tall burly fifth year walked out of the classroom with Professor McNeversmiled.

"Wood," she addressed the new boy excitedly, "I've found you a new seeker! I saw him dive backwards fifty feet and catch a snitch-sized ball!"

Harry wasn't going to argue or complain just because McGonagall needed new glasses.

The other boy's look of confusion quickly vanished to ones of joy, but Harry's look of confusion stayed intact.

"Seeker?" Harry questioned them.

"Yes," Wood had turned to Harry. "Gryffindor needs a new seeker on its Quidditch team."

Harry's attention swiftly doubled, the game of brooms! But it was soon lost as Wood continued his four hour tirade.

"And that," He concluded, "Is how you play seeker. Sorry I know the least about that position, I'll fill you in on the other positions and the rules and balls and hoops later." The-Boy-Who-Caught-A-Break paled.

"I'll see you later at practice tomorrow!" Wood called after Harry as they both walked away in opposite paths, actually, Harry should have been going the same way, but he decided it was the right time for a walk.

He had only walked a few ways when he heard: "Harry!" He spun around to be facing Ron.

"So what happened?" His best friend whispered to him, concerned.

"I made the Gryffindor Quidditch team." Said Harry, finding himself grinning.

"That's awesome! You must be the youngest seeker in a century!" Ron told Harry.

"Yeah, but…what if I'm no good?"

"That's not possible." Piped up Hermione Granger, as she appeared out of no where.

"What are you talking about?"

"Follow me," she said, then directly lead them to the trophy room. "Look there Harry," she commanded him. "It's in your blood."

Harry eyed Hermione warily, "You know, it's kind of freaky that you know so much about me. Are you stalking me?"

Hermione glared, "Shut up Harry, and look!"

So slowly, Harry turned around and looked into the huge glass cabinet, staring at the glittering awards. Then he saw it, there, on the right side, a huge Quidditch Award, with names of a long ago Gryffindor team listed. Towards the bottom of the award, written in larger lettering than the rest of the names was **JAMES POTTER-SEEKER/CHASER**.

"Wow…" Ron said quietly staring at the gold award. "Look Harry! You're dad was a chaser!"

"What?" bulked Hermione. "No! He was a seeker like Harry!"

"It clearly states that James Potter was a chaser!" Growled Ron.

"Seeker!" Insisted Hermione.

"CHASER."

"SEEKER!"

"CHASER!"

"SE-"

"-That's enough." Harry commanded, "It doesn't matter, what matters is that my dad was a great Quidditch player."

Hermione smiled and calmed down, if she were a bird, she would be slowly unruffling her feathers. "Oh course Harry, see I told you-"

"But I agree with Ron."

"Oh!" Hermione hissed, then huffed away, looking back only once to glare at the two boys.

Ron snickered as she turned down the next hallway. "Serves her right." Then he proceeded to inform Harry about his favorite Quidditch team, the Cudley Cannons, as they began their own walk back to the Gryffindor Common Rooms.

"Hey Potty!" a voice called out as they passed the main corridor before the Great Hall. "Going to pack your bags?" Draco Malfoy asked innocently.

Harry couldn't help it; he broke into a smile. "Actually, no. I have to go do some homework…"

"What!" Draco snarled, "That's not fair!"

Ron laughed openly at Draco, then for some reason pulled a do-rag on over his red hair, and looped a gold chain around his neck. "Ha! Malfoy, you've just been _served!_"

Malfoy drew himself up to his full height, a total four feet. "Potter, I challenge you to a Wizard Dance-Off, twelve, tonight, in the trophy room."

"I'm his back-up break-dancer!" Ron cut in. For some reason Harry began slouching and could visibly feel his pants sagging.

"Pansy's mine." Malfoy sneered back at him.

"It's _on_!" Ron yelled back. "And you know how I like it! Straight hood!"

"Word." Nodded Draco, and the too parties stormed away.

Harry wordlessly gapped at him.

"What?" asked Ron. "Oh don't worry Harry, there's nothing to worry about. Unless he pops a cap in ya' backside."

* * *

"Are you ready?" Harry hisses at Ron, the two boys are currently hiding under a study table in the dark common room, it's a quarter to twelve, and for some reason all of the night-crazy teenage Gryffindors went to bed at ten. We can only assume this has something to do with the plot, otherwise Harry and Ron were extremely lucky.

"Ok, lets go, but we're gotta be quiet!"

The two boys dart out from under the table, Harry runs into an armchair and is flung backwards; Ron, looking back to see what happened, and running at the same time, crashes into a fire grate, then slips on the rug and falls forward. His flailing-arms-effect, catching a couple lamps and leaving them smashed upon the ground.

They both turn to each other and place a finger to their lips. "SHHH!"

Then, with as much dignity as they have left, Harry and Ron march towards the portrait, Ron's left leg dragging on the ground as he limps alongside Harry.

Their goal was complete; they had successfully snuck out of the Gryffindor Common Room. Smiling at each other, they both put a foot forward, daring to continue their first ever act of curfew breaking—

Something had just bodily thrown themselves at the two eleven year-olds backs, causing them to stumble forward.

"Have you no shame!" Hermione snarled quietly at the two rule-breakers with an angry hiss. She turned to face Harry, her tightly curled hair highlighted in the torchlight. "You just barely escaped punishment last time, and now you're off gallivanting like dirty shameless _marauders_." She spat out the last word.

For some totally, non-foreshadowed, indescribable way, Harry was suddenly filled with unnamed pride. In the background, Scabbers squeaked loudly and ran to a hiding-spot.

"Why do you care?" Ron spat back at her. "This has nothing to do with you, so just go back up to your bed!"

"You're going to lose points for Gryffindor! And right after I earned all those points in Professor McGonagall's class!"

"Bugger off, Granger." Ron continued.

Hermione huffed, her cheeks turning red with the indignation of it all. "Fine, but when Gryffindor wakes up tomorrow and sees fifty house points lost because of two stupid boys, and I'll be right there saying: 'I told you—Hey!'" Hermione had reeled around, planning to march back into the common room during her speech, slamming the portrait on the last word, but as she turned to face the Fat Lady, she had found the frame empty.

"Where'd she go?" Hermione whined, wringing her hands, "I'm stuck out here!"

Ron just raised a moldy green eyebrow and rolled his eyes, they needed to continue with their mission, and so they carried on, walking down the dark torch-lit hallways.

Hermione had seemed to have come to a hard decision. "W-wait up you guys!" She chased after them.

"What's this? Little Miss Perfect joining in on our _rule-breaking_?" Ron mock-gasped in shock.

Hermione just glared. "I don't want to be alone, when we meet the Professors, I can tell them the truth, it's your fault."

The group abruptly stopped.

"Oh no you didn't!" Ron sneered, snapping his fingers back and forth.

"Say _wha?"_ Harry glared in displeasure.

"That's it; I'm going to have a BF!" Ron and Hermione exchanged rigid-fingered hand slaps.

"She bit me! She bit me! Do something Harry, she bit me!"

The BF was unexpectedly halted, as a shadow flickered across the torch light.

"What was that?" Harry's voice questioned softly.

"I don't kn—"

"Merrowww."

Fear seemed to grip their hearts and squeeze their throats; there was total silence as the trio watched the mangled scruffy cat calmly trot into the dim light of the torches. She eyed the students eerily, then licked her chops and trotted away.

"We—gotta go—" Harry finally sputtered. "wasn't that Filch's cat…"

Then they heard it, the soft muttering of an old mad man—no not Dumbledore—"Students out of bed my sweet? Ahh, wait until I find them…"

The three stared at each other with wide eyes. Hermione then, found her nerves and spoke up.

"Sir! These two dragged me out of—" There was a muffled scream as Harry whipped his hand across her mouth and drug her back into the shadows of another empty hallway.

"You hear that?" Filch whirled around towards the sound. "They're close, my pet..."

"Be quiet!" Harry hissed at Hermione, his hand still over her mouth. "I think I can get us back to the common room without getting caught—follow me…"

Slowly, he unhanded Hermione and slinked away, turning right down the next set of corridors, the other two following his footsteps. They made some sharp rights, a few uncertain lefts, and one screaming-as-you-fall-down-the-steps staircase. So when they wound up on the Forbidden Third Corridor, there really was nothing to do but stay there, seeing as the staircases had moved again and they would have to wait until they decided to come back.

"You guys stop!" Hermione suddenly protested, throwing out her arms. "We're on the Third Corridor!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, "So?"

"It's forbidden!" she almost whined. "I don't know what to do!"

"What are you talking ab—"

"I mean, how are we supposed to act? I know how to act in regular corridors; I'm going to have to consult Behavior and Mannerisms in Forbidden Areas, before we go any father." She stated grimly. Then pulled out a thick book from the inside of her bathrobe.

"Where'd that come from—"

"You know it doesn't matter!" Harry butted in. "We've got to keep going, I have a feeling Filch is close by…"

And as if to prove his point, Mrs. Norris pranced out of the shadows and hissed at them.

Hermione suddenly paled, "Oh my gosh! I've just realized, I never studied the art of escaping capture in Hogwarts, I must read this!" She yanked another book out from under her clothes, titled: Alluding Capture in Hogwarts . Hermione franticly flipped through the pages.

"What the—"

"Hermione!" Harry cried, "There's no time! We got to go!"

Hermione just shook her head, "No…Harry, this is important…"

"If we don't go now, you'll get in trouble." Ron wisely spoke up.

Hermione almost dropped her books. "Well then let's go!" And they raced down the hallway, once they reached the end of the hallway; they ran to the only door in the corridor. Harry tugged at the handle.

"It's locked!"

"Oh move _over!_" Hermione sighed, exasperated. "_Alohomora!"_

With a resounding click, the door opened and stood ajar. The three rule-breaking students rushed inside and shut the door behind them.

Harry leaned against the door, his eyes closed, he was rubbing his forehead. "Ok…" he said "What we need to do—"

"Harry." Ron whispered, his voice higher than normal.

"Shh…Ron, let me think—the Gryffindor Common Rooms are about two floors—"

"Harry!" Ron whined, interrupting again.

"Ron!" Harry snapped open his eyes. "Let me—oh…my…g—"

Ron was sniffling by now, there in front of them was an enormous, black three-headed dog, staring at them intently, growling. Huge strands of drool dripping down to the floor, the walls vibrating from the dog's snarling.

"Open the door." Harry commanded, wide-eyed, he couldn't feel his body. "Open the door."

"Wait Harry," Hermione told him, sounding slightly annoyed. "just let me look this up…" She had pulled out another book: So You're Locked In a Room With a Monster? She glared crossly at the book, obviously not founding what she was looking for, then shifted it to her other arm and pulled out another book titled: Dog Attacks and What to Do, she began searching through that.

"Open the door!"

"Just a little more—" she was combing through a new book: Looking For Hard to Find Items in Dog-Guarded Rooms.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Harry screamed, the dogs deciding then to attack, it ran towards its lunch…Ron heaved open the door and Harry grabbed Hermione. They slammed the door shut just as the dogs' claws sunk into the wood.

After catching their breaths, Harry turned angrily to Hermione. "What were you doing back there!"

Hermione growled and shoved all five of the thick books into Harry's chest, Harry, shocked at her reaction; let them fall to the floor.

"You don't use your eyes do you?" She shrieked back at him, then bent down and waved Looking For Hard to Find Items in Dog-Guarded Rooms, in his face. "Didn't you wonder what a massive dog was doing in a locked room inside Hogwarts!"

"I was more concerned about not getting my face ripped off!" He hollered back at her.

"It was guarding something!" she returned, "A trap-door, right beneath its feet!"

"Well who—" he stuttered, "who—what—_so_?"

"I'm going to bed!" Hermione gathered her books to her chest and huffed, the Portrait appeared without them seeming to have moved… "Before either of you get me killed, or worse, expelled!" Her dramatic exit was ruined a little by the fact that her night dress got caught in the door, but after she reopened it and slammed it in their faces, they could all agree it was impressive none-the-less.

* * *

It was a week later, Halloween, and they had Charms first thing, and Ron still appeared to be a little moody from their adventures. And his dirt was acting like skin of a teenagers' to stress, ittle mole-hills had popped up over night, and he kept having to feed the gophers.

It was even worst when Ron found out he was paired up with Hermione Granger for their assignment that day.

"Ok," Professor Flickwick sounded off from the top of the room. "remember, it's swish, and flick! Now you try!" And with that, the class started its' work.

Harry was paired up with another first year Gryffindor boy, Seamus Finnigian, they were sitting right next to the Ron/Hermione group.

"_Winguardium Levaosa!"_ Ron franticly jabbed his wand at the feather they were supposed to make float.

"You're saying it wrong! Your pronunciation is way off!" Hermione scalded him. "It's Winguardium Leviosa! Not Winguardium Lev_a_osa!"

"Oh yeah?" Ron glared at her, turning red.

"Yeah." She turned towards the feather and lifted her wand. "_Winguardium Leviosa!_" The feather slowly floated off the desk and up into the air. Hermione smirked smugly, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"You see Ron Wazilby? This is how you do it!" She told him proudly.

Ron just glared at her.

* * *

Charms had ended and all the first years were walking to their next class, Ron was ranting to Harry about Hermione.

"No wonder she doesn't have any friends! Did you hear what she called me? Wazilby? She's the one whose pronunciation is off!"

Just then, Ron was bodily checked into a stone water fountain and fell to the ground groaning. Hermione rushed past them crying, dropping How to Behave in Charms on her way.

Ron stared uncomfortably after her then slowly raised himself from the ground.

"Ron…" Harry began.

"Let's go get something to eat." He interrupted dully.

* * *

The Great Hall was loud with Halloween festivities, but Harry and Ron ate silently, Ron refusing to talk.

"Where's that Hermione Granger girl?" a first year named Lavender turned to ask her friend.

"In the fifth floor bathroom, I heard she was crying—"

Ron shifted guiltily in his seat and continued to stare at his potatoes, as if they held the secrets of the universe.

By the time desert came, Harry was getting annoyed at his best friend's attitude.

"Ron," he told him, "just go and say you're sorry."

Ron looked up at him and began to open his mouth and respond, but what he would say, Harry never knew, because it was then that Professor Quirrel burst through the Great Hall's doors.

"T-TROLL!" He screamed as he ran towards the Professors' table. "IN THE NORTH TOWER!"

"You fool!" another voice hissed. "you're supposed to say the dungeons!"

Quirrel paused, and then started his rant again. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" With that, he fainted.

A huge uproar broke out across the Great Hall, students shouting and crying, trying to fight their way to the doors, and teachers trying to remain control.

"Quiet!" A demanding voice rang out across the room. "Prefects, take the student's back to their House Common Rooms', Professors, follow me to the dungeons." Professor Dumbledore finished his commands, everyone trying to follow his directions.

Harry and Ron were in a big group heading back to the Common Rooms, when a thought stuck Harry. "Hermione!" he yelled, pulling Ron out of the group with him. "She doesn't know! We have to go get her!"

Ron eyed the Gryffindor group then looked at Harry, he looked torn. "Ok." He sighed, "Let's go." So the two boys raced off, trying to get to Hermione as fast as they could, so they could quickly get to safety.

They had just arrived on the fifth floor when they saw it. The troll, the huge grey, lumpy, ugly, troll.

"How did it get up here so fast?" Harry whispered to Ron, "And how did it even get into Hogwarts?"

"Trolls are stupid; someone must have let it in… hey look! It's heading into that room, maybe we can lock it in there and go get the professors!"

"Ok, on three, one…two…three!" Harry and Ron scattered out of their hiding place like mice and slammed the door shut, quickly Ron bolted the door and they started running away, down the hallway.

They were both grinning and giving each other high-fives when they heard a scream from inside the room they just locked the troll in. Harry spun around and paled suddenly.

"R—ron…that's the bathroom." Ron's face cracked with dry mud.

Run. Run. Run. "_Alohomora! "_ Open creaking door. Freeze.

Hermione was on the floor, hiding under a white sink and shrinking back in terror, she screamed again. "DO SOMETHING YOU LOSER!"

Harry stopped, feeling the tears coming, so her real feelings were out. Everyone thought he was a loser! He collapsed to the floor, sobbing.

Ron glared at her, "Now look what you did! And we came back to save you and everything!"

Hermione just screamed again, the troll was advancing ever closer.

"Oh shut up, I know you're faking, that's all you ever do, complain or tell us off. BlahblahShufflepuffblahblahbooksblahblah_Winguardium Leviosa!_"

And for some reason, the troll's club flew right out of his hand and went flying into the air, then promptly dropped back down on its owner's thick head. The troll fell to the ground, it had been knocked out.

Hermione was crying now too, she ran to Ron and enveloped him in a hug, mud getting into her hair. Ron turned as red as his hair and hastily pushed her off. "St—stop, I didn't do anything…"

"You saved me!" she said, hugging him again, "And you too!" She pulled Harry to his feet. The two boys looked at her in horror, and then were pulled in for a group hug. A brilliant glowing white light appeared out of the ceiling and washed them in its brightness. Something disgustingly good and corny was born that day. The Golden Trio.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" Professor McGooglehimer screamed from the doorway with her fellow professor, they stared as the scene before them, a destroyed bathroom, an unconscious mountain troll, and three little first years. The bright light flickered and died.

Harry and Ron exchanged guilty glances.

"It's my fault Professor," Hermione spoke up, the two boys stared at her thunderstruck, Hermione was lying to a _Professor? _"You see—I've read about trolls—and, and, I thought I could take one on by myself." Hermione fiddled with a book behind her back that the Professor's couldn't see, it was titled: Lying to Professors About Unusual Situations. "If these two hadn't come to save me…I might have been killed." She lowered her head and stared at her feet.

"Well…that was very wrong of you Ms. Granger, five points from Gryffindor." She turned her gaze over to the boys. "And five points to each of you, for sheer dumb luck."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gratefully trooped out of the bathroom; glad it was all over with. But Harry, the last one out, looked up at the professors one final time, and he saw something unusual…Professor Snape, his least favorite professor, had a huge bite on his leg, and it looked like it came from a dog.

* * *

It was like bonding glue, from that moment on. Harry and Ron were never out of the company of Hermione, and she had seemed to have lightened up a little. A troll attack is just what they needed to be best friends.

So that's why Ron and Hermione were wishing Harry good luck, just before he left for his first Quidditch game.

"Don't worry Harry, you'll be great!" Ron assured him.

"Yeah Harry, we'll be in the stands, rooting for you." Hermione told him.

"Good luck!" they both called over their shoulders as they walked away towards their seats.

Harry stared after them, then gradually turned around and headed into the locker room. He was very nervous and feeling sick. He gripped his broom even harder, who knew that his love of mops would make him a famous Quidditch star? Right now he would have traded that for being in the stands.

"Come on Harry!" Oliver called, the Captain of the Gryffindor Team. "It's time!"

Harry just nodded, not being able to speak, he was just about to go out when he remembered, Harry doubled back and pulled out a red cape. He fastened it on his neck and felt his fear melt away; after all he was the hero of the moment! A spotlight appeared and paned in on him.

"Now I'm ready!" His cape flying in the nonexistent wind.

* * *

"Captains shake hands." Madam Hooch commanded, she held up the red quaffle and threw it into the air. The first Quidditch game of the season had officially started. As the other balls were released, the game got rowdier. But Harry knew his duty; he must find the golden snitch!

"AND TODAY SEEMS LIKE A GOOD DAY FOR QUIDDITCH." The commenter was heard out over the field. "BUT BEFORE WE BEGIN, I'D LIKE TO READ OFF SOME MESSAGES FROM TEACHERS, PARENTS, AND STUDENTS, ALL APART OF OUR NEW PROGRAM FOR HEALTHY ABUSMENT."

"OK," he continued, a rustling sound, like a piece of paper could be heard. "SNAPE REQUESTS THAT TIMMY ATTINBURN USE THE RESTROOM BEFORE BED, AS HE IS TIRED OF HAVE TO CALL FOR HOUSE ELVES EVERY MORNING FOR HIS ACCIDENTS."

Snape looked smug, and a sixth year Slytherin student suddenly ducked under his seat.

"NEXT IS FROM PROFESSOR TO PROFESSOR, PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL ADDRESSES THIS TO PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY, ASKING HER TO PREDICT THE OUT COME OF THIS GAME FOR EVERYONE'S AMUSMENT. WHY, THANK YOU PROFESSOR, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU CARED."

"NOW WE HAVE ONE FROM MELISSA REALINTON TO HER BOYFRIEND DUKE MCSQUIREING, TELLING HIS THAT SHE KNOWS HE FALLED HIS O.W.L.S AND THAT SECRET IS SAFE WITH HER."

"THERE'S MORE TO COME, BUT NOW, BACK TO THE GAME."

Harry dove and dived, did flips and smiled so his teeth would sparkle; after all, he had to impress the fans!

"Harry! Get your head out of your butt and find the snitch!" Hermione hollered at him from the stands.

"Don't talk to Harry that way!" A girl in the group of people wearing 'I Love Harry' shirts screamed at her.

"Oh yeah?" Hermione stood up. "I'm Harry's best friend!"

The other girl stood up too. "Darling Harry deserves better than you, you tramp!"

Hermione sizzled and turned red. "HUSSY!" She sneered back at the Harry Fan.

"Bookworm!"

"Neanderthal!"

"Brainy!"

"Egotistic simpleton!"

"Uh…you're ugly!"

"And you're shallow!"

The Harry Fan started crying, "I can't think of any more words!" she sobbed.

"Look what you did!" All of the Harry Fans glared at her. "You big bully!"

"Bully?" Hermione spat at them, "I'll give you bully-"

"Hermione!" Ron franticly whispered to her, tugging at her coat. "Sit down!"

While the argument was taking place at the stands, Harry was searching for the snitch with his safari binoculars, peering up and down the long stretch of the Quidditch field. Then he saw it, the small flash of glittering gold, all the way on the other side of the field.

"AND THE GAME IS THUS, GRYFFINDOR 10, SLYTHERIN 20. AND NOW A FEW MORE MESSAGES FROM OUR FANS." The commenter cleared his voice. "THE PARENTS OF JOE FARMINGLY WOULD REQUEST THAT WE KNOW HE STILL SUCKS ON HIS THUMB, AND ASKS HIM TO NEXT TIME FINISH HIS HOMEWORK WHEN IT'S DUE. THE WEASLEY FAMILY WANTS TO KNOW IF RON HAS ANY MORE FRIENDS THEN 'THAT LOSER' AND THE STUDENTS IN DETENTION REQUEST SOME ONE OTHER THAN HAGRID, SEEING AS THEY ALWAYS GET IN TROUBLE FOR DOING SOMETHING DIFFERENT THAN WHAT HE ASKS FOR."

Pink Panther music blared out of the commentary box as Harry slyly peeked over at the other seeker, he hadn't seen it yet. So Harry, now with the music in him, flew towards the snitch as fast as he could, trying to catch the other seeker off guard if he saw him, and relying on his head-start to get him there first.

But the music must have alerted some suspicion, because Harry wasn't even a quarter of the way there when the other seeker also spied the snitch and pelted towards it.

Harry was still a good ways in front of the Slytherin seeker when he felt an unusual shudder, running down the length of his broomstick. Suddenly, it started bucking like a rodeo horse, trying to throw Harry off.

The crowd gasped when they finally saw Harry, Ron and Hermione looking at each other in terror, afraid what might happen to their friend.

"It's a jinx," Hermione murmured to Ron, so only he could hear. "I'd know it anywhere."

Ron carefully looked around, "Who's doing it?" Hermione looked up too, searching for the perpetrator. She nudged Ron in his side, and pointed towards the Teacher's Box, there, sitting between Professor Quirrell, who had a strangely strong eye contact with Harry, and Professor McGonagall, was Professor Snape, who had a cowboy hat on, and was staring at Harry, muttering words under his breath.

"Hermione, we have to do something!" Ron urgently muttered to her.

"Leave it to me, I'm on it!" And in a flash, Hermione was gone from her seat, scampering across the stands, towards the Teacher's Box. She paused right before she entered, then appearing to have made up her mind, she dashed inside, knocking down Professor Quirrell and Professor Flickwick on her way; apparently, Hermione couldn't think of a spell, so instead she karate chopped Snape in the windpipe and jumped out of the box mission-impossible style, pulling on a parachute while in the air.

Hermione emerged beside Ron, faintly out of breath a couple seconds later. She gave him a thumbs up.

Harry's broom stopped shaking, and he rounded around, heading back on his path, chasing after the other seeker.

They were shoulder and thigh, head and shoulder, neck and neck, Harry wasn't sure if he could do it, he would be letting down his whole team. His cape was flapping uselessly behind him, getting tangled in his legs.

"Look! Harry's still after the snitch!"

Ron stood up, along side Hermione. "He's not going to make it! He's going to crash!" Ron stared at Harry as he dove towards the golden ball, fearfully.

Hermione gasped. "No! I can't let that happen! HARRY! HERE! CATCH THIS!" she screamed out into the field, throwing How to Win a Quidditch Game through the air.

Harry snapped his head around, hearing his named being called, that's when he saw the book hurtling towards him, he easily dodged it. "Hermione!" Harry opened his mouth wide to yell at her. "You can't just throw books into the—" A choking noise was heard, Harry stopped, pulling out of his dive and grabbed his throat, coughing.

"AND GRYFFINDOR'S DONE IT!" the commenter announced, his words magically amplified. "HARRY POTTERS SWALLOWED THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS 160 POINTS TO 30! BUT BEFORE WE GO, LET ME READ OFF THE LAST MESSAGE, AN ANOYMOUS WRITER HAS SENT IN, 'POOTER SUCKS.'

"SO THAT CONCLUDES THE FIRST QUIDDITCH MATCH OF THE YEAR, THANK YOU FOR WATCHING AND JOIN US NEXT TIME."

* * *

After Harry had his stomach pumped, they all decided to go down and visit Hagrid, Harry's biggest friend, seeing as they hadn't visited him for a while.

After Hagrid had ushered them in, presented them with food, and unstuck their jaws, the four of them began talking about the Quidditch game.

"It was Snape! He was cursing your broom!" Ron was telling Harry. "We saw him! Me and Hermione!"

"That's rubbish!" Hagrid said. "Snape's a professor, why would he do something like that?"

The three of them gave each other a knowing look, Harry had told them long ago about the dog bite he saw, they figured Snape let the troll in; he was trying to steal what that dog was guarding.

"But we found something out about him." Insisted Harry. "He was trying to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween, it bit him, he was trying to get at what ever it's guarding."

Hagrid froze, and slowly looked at each one of them in turn. "How do you know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" Ron spat, remembering how it had almost killed them.

"Yeah, bought him off a chap in the pub last year, and lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—ah, to guard."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!"

"That's rubbish!" Hagrid repeated.

"So why did he try to kill Harry? I know a jinx when I see one, and explain the hat, those things are evil!"

Hagrid seemed at a lost at what to say about the cowboy hat. "Well, uh, maybe he likes country music…"

"That just proves our case!" Ron cried.

"Look, you forget about the fact that Professor Binns in gay, that Professor McGonagall talks to cats, that Filch is a squib, the Dumbledore isn't telling Harry the whole truth, that there's such a person as Sirius Black, that Harry's a loser, and that you saw that dog! Stop meddin' in dangerous things! What it's guarding is between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"

Harry smiled widely, Hagrid just let something very important slip—oh who cares what that other junk is, it's not important.

"So there's some one named Nicolas Flamel involved?"

Hagrid dropped his teapot, "I shouldn't have told ye' that!"

_**

* * *

**_

_**Siriusly**_


	6. Trouble’s a Brewin’

Hello fans, assorted admirers, mortal enemies, Czechoslovakian spies, future realtors, and the rare casual reader! Thanks for sticking with this story, even when the plot spirals from strange to stranger. Thanks for reading even when your first impulse is to run to the nearest bus stop.

Thanks for the lovely Christmas gift. Thanks for sitting through my long and overly dramatic opening, just to read this chapter. Your efforts are much appreciated.

That Loser

**Chapter 6: Trouble's a Brewin' **

"Well there must be something!" sighed Hermione in frustration, thumbing through a thick book in the Hogwarts library.

"This is pointless!" shouted Ron, immediately shushed by the librarian. Ron lowered his voice, "I mean, this is pointless, we've searched this whole library, and not one mention of this Nicholas Flannel guy."

Harry looked at Ron, puzzled, "Uh, Ron, its Nicholas Flamel."

Ron sighed, "Well that explains why I'm not finding anything!" Ron lifted a large book with a plaid fabric cover. The words Fabulous Flannel were embroidered on the cover. Ron groaned, "And I've got a whole stack of them too!" He pointed to a tall stack of books. Harry craned his neck to read the titles.

"Nicholas Flannel and Norman Suede: Famous Fabric Fabricators of the Last Century, Fame and Flannel: The Nicholas Flannel Story, NeedlepointMonthly, Quilting Circle Magazine! Ron, these are useless!" Harry sighed, resting his forehead on his own towering stack of books.

Ron nodded, "Too bad, this stuff is really interesting reading... I mean..."

Hermione came to Ron's rescue, "Let's get rid of all of these and start over. Ron will you move that big one out of the way please?" Hermione pointed to a huge brown leather-bound book on the table with the words **NICHOLAS FLAMEL** glowing in neon orange on the cover.

Ron took a quick look at the book and opened it. "**NICHOLAS FLAMEL**!" screamed the book. Ron shook his head and roughly pushed the book off the table. It landed with a thud, a mushroom cloud of dust, and a final scream of "**NICHOLAS FLAMEL**!"

Ron snorted, "Totally useless." He grabbed up a chocolate frog from his school bag, opened it, and stuffed the squirming chocolate mass into his mouth. "Darn it!" shouted Ron around a mouthful of chocolate, looking at his chocolate frog card "Dumbledore again! Dragon blood, yada yada, Nicholas Flamel, Alchemy, blah blah blah."

Harry went back to the shelf, running his finger along the spines of the books, "Flummoxes and Paradoxes by Morgran Grunge, Fatal Distraction: The Need For Constant Vigilance by Alastor Moody, The Joys of Flannel by Nicholas Flannel-"

Ron jumped up out of his chair, excited.

"No Ron, Flamel remember?"

Ron's eyes teared up in disappointment and he sat back down.

Hermione suddenly jumped out of her chair. Harry sighed, "No Hermione, its FLAMEL, not-"

Hermione looked at him, disgusted, "It's not that. I think I remember something. I picked this book up for a bit of light reading." She slammed a heavy book onto the library table.

Harry looked at the table, "How to Breathe For Dummies?"

Hermione blushed, "Uh no, I meant..." she rummaged around in her school bag for a moment, "This one!" She pulled out another book, equally large, and flipped through the yellowed pages to a chapter titled Alchemy and Life Extension. Hermione read aloud for the benefit of the two illiterate boys looking over her shoulder. Ron ran his finger along the page as Hermione read, sounding out each word to himself in a loud whisper.

"Here it is! Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel are the only known makers of The Sorcerers Stone!" Hermione laughed, then started to gasp for breath. She quickly grabbed How to Breathe For Dummies. "Sorry, when I get excited I just start to hyperventilate and..."

Ron and Harry stared blankly at her. Well, Harry did anyway; Ron was still only halfway through the sentence. "What's the Sorcerer's Stone?"

Hermione sighed, "Honestly, don't you two ever read? The Sorcerers Stone is-"

Ron finally finished the sentence, "Hey wait, what's the Sorcerer's Stone?"

Hermione glared at him.

Ron laughed nervously, "Sorry mate."

Hermione picked up where she left off, "The Sorcerer's Stone is a magical substance that can turn any ordinary matter into pure gold, or make The Elixir of Life."

Harry and Ron stared at her blankly.

"It's a drink that keeps you alive forever."

Harry and Ron stared at her blankly.

"It makes you never die."

Harry and Ron stared at her blankly.

Hermione sighed, wondering why she hung out with them at all. "You know, it keeps you from going into the...Forever Dark."

Ron gasped, "Not the Forever Dark, keep it away! I don't want to go dead!"

Harry ignored Ron, "So, what does this have to do with what the dog's guarding?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione then remembered who she was talking to and decided to explain it, "Dumbledore is hiding the Sorcerer's Stone for his friend Nicholas Flamel AT Hogwarts!"

Harry pounded his fist on the table, "So Snape's trying to steal it to become fabulously rich!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Or to become immortal."

"Or to grow a mustache!"

Both Harry and Hermione turned to stare at Ron. Ron's smile faded,

"What?"

The next day, Hermione, bundled up in her cloak and scarf, and rolled her trunk out of Hogwarts through the Great Hall. Snow fell into the open room. The floor and tables were covered with fluff.

"Now, while I'm gone, both of you try to figure out what Snape would want with the Sorcerer's Stone. And don't get yourselves killed, all right? Happy Christmas."

Harry and Ron watched Hermione until she disappeared out of sight.

"Well," said Harry," I guess we'd better-" A snowball hit him in the face. After he cleared the snow from his eyes, he saw Ron looking very guilty.

"Oh yeah?

Well take THIS!" Harry scooped some snow off the Great Hall floor and threw it at Ron.

This continued for several hours, until both boys were up to their necks in a snowdrift. "Why didn't they put a ROOF in this place!" yelled Ron, slowly sinking into the snow. "Nooooooo..."

After Hagrid had pulled Harry and Ron out of the snowdrift, and after they had been treated for hypothermia by Madame Pomfrey, they quickly went to bed to await Christmas the next day.

"Harry, Harry! Wake up, it's Christmas!" Harry opened his eyes, wiped some drool off his chin, and looked at his watch, "Ron, do you always wake up to open presents at 12:30 in the morning?"

Ron looked at his own clock "Oh, sorry mate."

"Harry, Harry! Wake up, it's Christmas!" Light streamed through the red curtains, and Harry tried to hold onto sleep, sure it was another false alarm. Ron had woken him up periodically at 11:45, 12:30, 2:05, 3:00, 5:20, 6:01, and finally, Harry looked at his watch, 9:15. That's reasonable.

"All right Ron, I'm up, let's go eat breakfast."

"Breakfast? Don't you want to open your presents first?" said Ron, already ripping the wrapping paper off a giant box at the foot of his bed.

Harry looked in amazement at his own small stack of presents, "Wow, I've got presents!"

Ron snorted, "Of course you do and...uh oh, it looks like you've got one from my mum." Ron pointed to a lumpy package.

Harry opened it to find a box of homemade fudge and a green sweater with the initials TL knitted on the front. "TL? What's that supposed to stand for? "

Ron held up a similar maroon sweater with the initial R on it. "Oh, you know, my mum calls you 'That Loser' so..." Harry's eyes started to fill with tears.

"Well, hey mate," consoled Ron, "don't feel bad about it, mum's just glad I have any friends at all. She likes you plenty."

Harry, feeling a bit better, opened the rest of his presents. He picked up one that was addressed to Harry from Hermione. "How To Control Your Unruly Hair by Gilderoy Lockhart? Wow...Hermione sure knows how to pick them, eh Ron?"

Ron's face was bright red. "Now what does she mean by this?" He held up Hermione's gift to him, Referring to the Removal of Facial Molds: An Empirical Analysis by Harwood Torpid. "I do not have facial mold!" Ron snorted and turned up his mold-covered nose.

An awkward silence followed. "Um, hey Ron, look. One from Hagrid!"

He opened the grubby package, finding a rough wooden flute and a handwritten note inside. Harry read it aloud,

_"Dear Harry 'n Ron 'n Hermione,_

_Could yer come down to the hut Monday? I've got somethin here I want to show yer._

_Hagrid"_

Ron scratched his chin, "I wonder what he wants to show us?"

Harry shrugged and opened another present, this one with no name on it. He ripped open the plain paper, and something fluid fell to the floor.

Harry picked up the strange object. "I think it's a cloak."

Ron, his mouth full of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, smiled, "Well, go on, let's see it then. Put it on!" His expression then turned sour, "Ew! Oprah Winfrey flavor!"

Harry, ignoring Ron, put on the cloak and looked in the mirror, then screamed. "AHHH! I'm a floating head!"

Ron nodded sympathetically, "And how does that make you feel?" He shook his head, as to rid it of the famous TV talk show hostess, "Stupid beans! I mean, I know what that is, it's an Invisibility Cloak!"

Harry looked blankly at him.

"Hey, and look, there's a note!" Ron pointed to the piece of paper that Harry had ignored when he opened the gift.

_Your Father left this in my possession when he died. Use it well._

_P.S. This does not include raiding the kitchens as your father did. So please leave the poor house elves alone. Thank you_.

Harry stared in astonishment, "This was my father's? I wonder who gave it to me?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, have a jelly bean. Hey, what's that?" Ron pointed at an oddly shaped package at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Oh, it's from the Dursleys'." Harry took off the cheap wrapping paper to reveal... "A toilet plunger?"

Ron stared at the toilet plunger, "Wow! What is it? It looks like a soup ladle or something. Com'mon, let's go to breakfast and try it out!"

"Um, Ron, it's not-" But Ron was already halfway to the Great Hall with Harry's toilet plunger. Harry sighed and popped the Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Bean Ron had given him in his mouth, then spit it back out. "Ew, gross! Telemarketer flavor!"

"So, what do you think Snape wants with the Sorcerer's Stone?" Harry asked, pushing the last of his potatoes around his plate.

Ron dipped the toilet plunger into his soup bowl, and sipped tomato soup from the plunger. "I already told you my opinion, mustache, remember? Harry? You ok?"

Harry was staring at the plunger hanging out of Ron's mouth, "Uh, yeah, right. I still think there's more to this. We must be missing something." Harry stared across the room at Snape, eyes narrowed, "But what?"

When breakfast was over, Ron challenged Harry to a game of wizard's chess. It looked ordinary enough as Ron set the game up. Yet Harry wondered how wizard's chess was different from ordinary chess. Would the chess pieces talk to him? Would they suddenly come alive and do an entertaining song and dance number? Would he, Harry, be thrown into The Pit of Despair if he lost?

Ron smiled, "You're move, mate."

Harry looked at the pieces. No, surely none of those things would happen. Suddenly, the queen piece turned her ivory head to look at him, "Well, are you going to move or not?"

Harry screamed.

A red siren bearing the legend 'Harry Alarm' went off, clanging madly. Dumbledore jumped out of his chair, wand at the ready. Hagrid came running with a pair of garden shears bigger than Harry's head. Ron waved them back, "False alarm. Sorry guys, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named isn't back."

Dumbledore sat down again and Hagrid trudged back to his hut, disappointed. The Harry Alarm continued to go off.

Ron turned back to Harry, "She's right, it is your move, mate."

A pawn jumped up and down with its hand in the air. "Ooh, ooh, me! Pick me!" It pleaded in a small squeaky voice.

In the background, the Harry Alarm was still ringing.

Professor McGonagall put her hands over her ears, "Will someone PLEASE turn that off!"

Unfortunately, Christmas day was drawing to a close as Harry and Ron went back to their dormitories. Harry wasn't ready for the best day of his life to be over yet.

"Hey Ron, do you want to do some marauding out tonight under the cloak?" Harry whispered.

Ron sat up in bed, "Hey, marauding, cool word. But, no, I don't think so Harry you go instead."

Harry shrugged, "Fine." He quickly threw on the cloak and crept out through the painting.

Ron shook his head, and prepared to go back to sleep when he realized half of the chair by his bed was missing. He got up to investigate and picked up the Invisibility Cloak off the chair.

"Oh no, Harry's got the wrong cloak! I wonder what cloak he has got!" Ron stared out the portal into the hallway, wondering what kind of trouble Harry would get himself into in an ordinary cloak. "I should probably do something...oh well." Ron dropped off to sleep immediately.

Harry, a few hallways and a floor below, giggled as he unknowingly crouched under an ordinary tan trench coat. He was invisible, the world was his! Professor Flitwick did a double take as a trench coat with a pair of sneakers visibly underneath walked by his office door. No, it couldn't possibly be...no student was that stupid. Well, there was that Potter boy...no, no, not even him. It really was a shame, his mother was so intelligent, and, well...his father may not have been the brightest, but his second cousin Chad Potter was truly exceptional!

We will now leave Professor Flitwick's boring monologue, as soon he will start reliving the glory days and pondering the meaning of life. It will be much more interesting to find out how Harry is making a fool of himself under the trench coat, so let's go back to him, shall we?

Harry ran for his life, Peeves was behind him screaming "Student out of bed, and covering himself with a coat. Potty boy's not too bright. Ha, here comes Filch, ickle first year's gonna get it!"

Harry rounded the corner before Peeves, flung open the nearest door, slammed it behind him and waited, breathing heavily, to hear Peeves swooping past. He didn't know poltergeists could see through Invisibility cloaks! He would just have to be more careful from now on.

Harry then turned around, hoping he had not entered the three-headed dog's room again. The walls and floor were bare, and the room was almost completely unadorned except for a magnificent golden mirror standing in the corner.

Harry moved closer. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and screamed. He vaguely heard the 'Harry Alarm' going off in some distant corridor, but he couldn't take his eyes off the mirror. There was Harry, surrounded by mops. All sizes, shapes, and colors, some brand new models, and even some old models that had been discontinued ages ago.

True classics! Harry drooled and leaned in closer to the mirror. There was something in the distance too...it looked like a lot of people. Was...was that his family?

"Hi mom, hi dad!" He thought. A red haired woman with huge emerald eyes nodded and a tall, unruly-haired man that looked just as dorky as Harry, smiled. His father pointed at a classic old model of mop, the Cleanmop 60, and smiled.

His dad had liked mops too! His mother patted his father on the shoulder, looking as though she didn't enjoy mops as much as he did. Harry's father shook his head and smiled, Harry nodded. Noncollectors, they just don't understand mops the way we do.

Harry suddenly heard some scuffling coming from behind the door, and the meow of Mrs. Norris. "Is there someone in here my pet?"

Oh no, it was Filch! Harry quickly tore himself away from the mirror and threw the coat over his head. "I'll be back, I promise!"

Filch got the surprise of his life when a student with a trench coat over his head opened the door and ran off into the corridor. No, no, it couldn't be a student. No one was that stupid, I mean, his sneakers are sticking out for crying out loud! It's impossible! What about that Potter boy...no, even that was impossible.

Harry ran back to the dormitory giggling to himself. This being invisible thing rocked!

"Come ON Ron!" whispered Harry the next night to his best friend, both under the Invisibility cloak. (The real one this time.) "The room is right...here. No wait, sorry, broom closet. BROOM CLOSET! ARE THERE ANY MOPS?"

"Shhhhh!" shushed Ron, spraying spit on the side of Harry's face, "Someone will HEAR us!"

"WHAT?"

"I SAID: SOMEONE WILL HEAR US!"

"Oh," said Harry, dropping his voice to a loud whisper, "Sorry. Wait, it was this one!" Harry opened a door that looked like all the others and stepped inside. Standing in the corner was the Mirror.

"Here, come look into it, there's a bunch of mops, and my family inside!" said Harry excitedly.

Ron raised a mold-covered eyebrow, "You woke me up for some mops?" Ron sighed, "All right, move over and let me see." Ron looked into the mirror and screamed. The 'Other Students That Don't Really Matter As Much As Harry Alarm' went off, but everyone ignored it, as they always did.

"Look! It's amazing!"

Harry nodded, "I know. That Turbo-Charged Moptacular X8000 is a real beauty, isn't it?"

"No, I mean, look at me! I'm actually bearable to look at, and I'm holding the House Cup! And I'm Quidditch Captain! And I'm Head Boy! And I've got an Abraham Lincoln profile scar on my head and I'm famous like y...I mean...And I'm Head Boy! And I'm a Prefect! And I'm fabulously wealthy! And-"

"Let's not get carried away," said Harry, stepping behind Ron to get a better look into the mirror, "Hey, the mold on your face is gone!"

Ron frowned. "What mold?"

There was an awkward silence.

Ron was starting to get angry, "I mean, really, what mold? First Hermione's gift, and now this? What are you guys talking about!"

Harry took a deep breath, "Well-" They heard a noise outside.

"Quick, get under the cloak!"

Harry had decided one thing as they ran back to their dorm under the cloak; he would not be bringing Ron back with him the next time.

They next night, Harry sat in front of the mirror, staring into its reflection.

"Back again, Harry?"

Harry jumped and turned around. "Professor Dumbledore! I...uh...I didn't know you were...this isn't what...how did you get in here without me seeing you?"

Dumbledore smiled, "There are other ways of becoming invisible." Dumbledore held up a trench coat, winked, and gave Harry a thumbs up.

Harry blinked at him, "Um, ok, so why are you here, sir?"

Dumbledore extracted something from his pocket, "Lemon drop?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, then, if you won't have one, I will." Dumbledore put a lemon drop in his mouth and sucked on it loudly. "I came here Harry, because it isn't healthy for you to be looking at this mirror all the time. This is the Mirror of Erised, Harry. Have you figured out what it does yet?"

Harry looked blank, "Uh...it shows you only the deepest and most desperate desire of your heart?"

Dumbledore shook his head, smiling at the stupidity of youth, "No Harry, it shows you what you want most, what your heart desires beyond anything else."

Harry frowned in confusion, "But isn't that what I just-"

"It's not important anyways, Harry. The mirror is being moved to a new home tomorrow, and I must ask that you not go looking for it."

Harry nodded, "Yes sir."

Dumbledore stopped sucking on his lemon drop for a moment, "It does not do to dwell on dreams Harry." He gave the lemon drop one final solemn slurp, and then disappeared through the open door.

"Hermione, thank goodness you're back, we haven't found out anything new about Snape!"

Hermione rolled her trunk into the Gryffindor common room. "Well then we'd better start searching again immediately! I'll-"

"No, Hermione, we can't right now. We have to go meet Hagrid. He said he had to show us something important." Harry showed Hermione the letter.

"All right then, but let's try to make it short." Hermione stuffed her bushy fro into a knitted winter hat with a tassel on the top and headed for the door.

The three friends walked through the thick snow to Hagrid's house, where clouds of steam were rolling merrily from the chimney.

"Hagrid must be cooking something." Said Harry.

Ron paled, "I hope its not more stoat sandwiches or rock cakes, I don't think I can stomach any more of them."

Hermione knocked on the door of Hagrid's dilapidated hut. Hagrid answered the door, "Hurry in, hurry in now. I gots sommat to show yer." Hagrid ushered them in, and quickly shut the door. "Look in the kettle."

Ron leaned over a bubbling kettle in the fireplace. "Not rock cakes, then?"

A loud clanging starting coming from the kettle. Hagrid clapped his hands in anticipation, "Ooh, he's done!"

Hermione watched in dismay as Hagrid pulled a large egg from the kettle and placed it on the kitchen table.

Hagrid smiled at them, "Do you know what this is?"

Hermione shrugged, "A wimple?"

Harry stared at Hermione, "Isn't that a sort of funny hat that nuns-?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "No, it's a magical creature that's a mix between an African peat frog and a chainsaw."

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"No really, they're quite dangerous; I've read all about them in The Monster Book of Monsters. By the way, thanks for the Christmas present Hagrid."

Hagrid beamed, "It was my pleasure Hermione, my pleasure!"

Hermione discreetly put her bandaged, bloody hands behind her back. "So am I right?"

Hagrid laughed, "No, try again."

Harry shrugged, "Um...an overly large pigeon?"

Ron suddenly piped in, "Hagrid! I know what that is, it's a dragon! But Hagrid, how did you get one?"

"I won it down in the pub." Said Hagrid proudly, "A suspicious hooded stranger wanted to play cards and buy me lots ter drink, so I didn't complain, especially when I won this dragon egg off 'im. In fact, he seemed rather glad to be rid of it..."

Suddenly, the egg cracked, revealing a tiny pointed nose. The egg gave another shudder and flew into a million pieces, leaving a baby dragon chirping on the table.

"Oh Norbert. Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" Hagrid cooed, not noticing that his beard was on fire.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wondering if they would have enough time to run out the door and away from the crazy man when they saw Draco Malfoy peeking in through the window.

"Oh great, Malfoy! Hagrid, you know it's illegal to keep dragons!" chided Hermione, "Now Malfoy's going to turn you in!"

Harry was distressed at the thought of one of his only friends being sent to prison, "There must be something we can do...er...we'll give him to your brother Bill, he works with dragons in Cuba, right?"

Ron looked hurt, "Actually, it's Charlie, and he works in Roma-"

"We've got no time to hear about that!" shouted Hermione, "Send him a letter or something; he's got to come and take away Norbert!"

Ron grinned, "No need for a letter, I'll just use the Weasley Psychic Hotline!" Ron closed his eyes and put his index fingers to his temples. His face had the expression of someone who was suffering from extreme constipation. Hermione, Harry, and Hagrid stared at each other, embarrassed. He suddenly opened his eyes and returned to normal, "Done! He says he'll be here tonight at midnight!"

Hermione raised a finger, "Technically, that would be tomorrow-"

"Midnight! Can't he get here any earlier?" said Harry, exasperated.

"Hey, he's in Romania, remember? He'll be flying all night as it is!"

Hermione sighed, "All right, so what's the plan?"

"All right, and take good care of him!" shouted Harry after Charlie, who was flying away with the dragon under his arm. He simply couldn't believe how easily they had gotten the illegal dragon out of Hogwarts. The security in this place really was a joke. I mean, the only time they had been stopped was by sleepwalking Professor Trelawney. She had mumbled for them to get back in bed, oh, and for Harry to pluck an ostrich, as it would help him avoid a terrible catastrophe in his near future. Harry snorted at the memory, now where was he supposed to find an ostrich, much less pluck one? If sleepwalking women mumbling strange advice was all the security they had in this place, then Dumbledore must be out of his mind. What was she supposed to do, hit him over the head with her a crystal ball?

Everything seemed to be going perfectly until they rounded the corner, ready to go back to the Gryffindor common room and celebrate when they saw a very angry Professor McGonagall in her green plaid nightdress. Harry thought her floppy night cap with the tassel on the end would have been funny if she didn't look as if she were about to decapitate him with her iron-edged stare.

"You three, in my office, NOW!" Malfoy peered out from behind her, snickering evilly. Dejectedly, the three friends followed McGonagall and a smug Draco back to her office.

"Really, I expected more out of you Miss Granger! As for you two, well, this is exactly the kind of stupid thing I predicted would happen. I will see all four of you in detention!"

Draco looked shocked, "Excuse me Professor, but I thought you said the four of us? I'm surely not getting detention!"

McGonagall glared at Draco, "Yes Draco. Despite your noble intentions-" Professor McGonagall grimaced. Harry coughed. "-You did act like a spoiled little tattletale, and here at Hogwarts we pride ourselves on...um...not being spoiled little tattletales."

Draco stood there with his mouth open, "But...but..."

Professor McGonagall shrugged, "And I just don't like you."

Draco started to sob inconsolably.

McGonagall totally ignored Malfoy and steepled her fingers, "You'll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight—" She quickly turned out the lights, put the "Psycho" theme music soundtrack into her record player, and turned on her flashlight, tilting it just the right angle to turn her peaked face into a mask of horror, "—in...the Forbidden Forest!"

Far in the distance, someone screamed and they heard the sound of shattering glass.

"Mwahahaha! MWAHAHAHA!" Professor McGonagall cackled.

Harry leaned over to whisper to Ron. "Someone didn't take her medicine this morning."

Hermione, her eyes glued to evil McGonagall, took out Psychology 101: Entering the Mind of the Sporadically Insane.

"I can't believe she's making me do this!" complained Draco sulkily, trudging behind Hagrid, Hagrid's giant dog Fang, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in The Forbidden Forest.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Oh shut up Malfoy, none of us want to be here either. So, what are we doing in The Forbidden Forest?"

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night, followed by the sound of broken glass.

Hermione jerked her head around, searching for the source of the scream. "What was that?"

Hagrid shrugged, "I dunno. Always get that in the forest if you call it by its name."

Ron's brow furrowed, "You mean the Forbidden Forest?"

"AAHHHHH!" _Crash, tinkle tinkle_.

Harry smiled evilly and elbowed Ron, "Forbidden Forest!"

"AAHHHHH!" _Crash, tinkle tinkle_.

Ron suddenly was wearing a striped red and white jacket and had pulled out a small wooden dummy with red hair wearing matching clothes.

"I say, Little Ron?"

Ron spoke in a weird high throaty voice, trying to keep his lips from moving while moving the puppet's mouth, "What is it Big Ron?"

"Do you know where we are Little Ron?"

"Why of course Big Ron!"

"Little Ron, could you tell us where we are?"

"Why the Forbidden Forest of course!"

"AHHHHHHH!" _Crash, tinkle tinkle_.

Ron tipped his hat, "Thank you thank you, we'll be here all week!"

"SHHH!" Hagrid shushed, spraying spit all over Ron and his comedy ventriloquist act. "You'll awake der spirits!"

Ron had the decency to stuff the dummy behind his back and look abashed, "Sorry Hagrid."

From behind his back came the muffled voice of Little Ron, "Sheesh, tough crowd."

"I heard that!"

Ron, looking wide-eyed and innocent, pointed to the dummy.

Hagrid sighed. It was going to be a long detention.

"Now this," Hagrid pointed to something huge and white lying on the ground, "is why we're here. Sommat in der Forbidden For...er, der forest, has been killin unicorns."

Hermione raised her hand, "But I thought they didn't have unicorns in the Forbidden Forest?"

"AAHHH!" _Crash, tinkle tinkle._

"Der spirits!" shouted Hagrid, looking around franticly.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

Hagrid glared at Hermione.

Hermione looked ashamed, "Sorry."

"Anyway, I want yer to split into groups of two and look fer whatever was killin the unicorns. If yer find it, or another unicorn, send green sparks up from yer wand and we'll find yer and come where yer to. Send up red if yer in trouble."

Hermione raised her hand again.

Hagrid chuckled, "Hermione this aint school. Yer don't have to raise yer hand."

Hermione's raised hand quivered, "But Hagrid, that explanation was delivered with atrocious grammar!"

Hagrid beamed, "Why thank you Hermione!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked down, embarrassed. Draco snorted.

"All right, Harry 'n Draco pair up and go that way." Hagrid pointed to a shadowed path, tunnel like with its roof of bare branches. The yellow moon gleamed palely through the skeletal branches and mist covered the leaf-strewn path in drifting blue-gray tendrils. A sign said 'I'd turn back if I were you.'

"And here's Fang. But I'm warnin yer, he's a coward. Hermione and Ron, come with me." Hagrid pointed to a sun lit path, well kept and bordered with daisies. Furry woodland creatures hopped happily in the wildflowers. "Well, see yer in an hour..." Hagrid narrowed his eyes,

"…or at yer funeral!"

Harry's eyes widened in horror and Malfoy screamed. Somewhere in the direction of the school, the 'Other Students That Really Don't Matter As Much As Harry Alarm' went off.

Draco's eyes filled with tears, "Don't leave us alone in the Forbidden Forest!"

"AHHHH!" _Crash, tinkle tinkle._

"Shhhh! Remember der spirits! I was just kiddin about the funeral thing. And remember green sparks in yer found it and red if yer in trouble." Hagrid, Hermione, and Ron disappeared down the happy sunlit path.

Harry sighed and Draco stood statue still, quivering. "Come on, let's go."

In fifteen minutes, Draco had forgotten his earlier panic attack and was back to complaining. "I mean, really, how can we be expected to do this. It's...it's servant's work!"

Harry had stopped listening to Draco a long time ago, so he was fully alert when he saw a dark shadow shift in the fog. "What was that?"

Suddenly the fog cleared, and a dark cloaked figure could be seen bending over the still form of a unicorn. Oh.my.gosh...was it...?

Draco stiffened and started to run away. Harry grabbed onto his arm. "No Draco wait, we have to send up green sparks, and red, I suppose, since we found the problem AND we're in mortal peril."

Draco shook his head quickly, still trying to break Harry's grip on his arm, "We've only been at Hogwarts for half a year! They haven't gotten to red sparks, let alone green. All we know is blue! Now get OFF me!" Draco broke free and ran like the coward he is back in the direction of Hogwarts. Leaving Harry alone with the scary figure in the black cloak.

Harry whispered "_Sparkus Azul_!" Blue sparks shot up in the air, high above the trees. He had started to edge away when the cloaked figure caught sight of him, and swooped down to-

A huge creature suddenly jumped over Harry drove away the dark thing. "Harry Potter," spoke the strange creature, "you are not safe in the forest."

"You're...you're a centaur!" exclaimed Harry.

The centaur rolled his eyes. Sometimes humans could be so slow.

"Yes, that's right, and The Dark Lord could have killed you tonight."

Harry gulped, "Do you mean, that...thing...that was Voldemort?"

The centaur nodded. Suddenly Hermione, Ron, Little Ron, and Hagrid with Draco in tow showed up.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, out of breath, "We saw your blue sparks and guessed that you and Draco hadn't been paying attention in Charms! Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, "I was saved by this centaur. And I think I know why Snape wants the Stone. Now common, let's get out of the Forbidden Forest!"

"AAHHHH!" _Crash, tinkle tinkle._

Back in the Hogwarts castle, Professor Trelawney screamed shrilly and dropped the crystal ball she had been carrying. This was the seventh one tonight! Getting out the dustpan and broom to sweep up the shards, she wondered when those detention students would stop shouting the name of that place. It was seriously messing up her vibes! "its bad chi," thought Professor Trelawney, shaking her head, "Bad chi."

"You think Snape's working for Voldemort! Don't you think that's a pretty big assumption?" Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry in the mirror while hair spraying her fro like mad. "Stay down won't you! Stupid frizzy hair!" grunted Hermione.

"I dunno, mate," said Ron, shaking his head, "You need more proof before you can take it to Dumbledore."

Suddenly the Gryffindor common room wall echoed with a thud. Harry, Ron, and Hermione pressed their ears to the hall. They could hear a shouted conversation through the paneling.

"You had better think again Quirrel, you better think real hard, see?" said an angry voice with a bad gangster accent.

"P-p-please Severus, d-d-don't—" the voice stuttered. It was Professor Quirrel, and the threatening voice was Professor Snape!

"You're gonna give me that spell, see? Or you're gonna be swimming with the fishes—"

Hermione, on the other side of the wall laughed, "Actually the plural form of fish is—" Ron put his hand over her mouth, then drew it away, embarrassed.

"Uh...be quiet ok?" They went back to eavesdropping.

"—So that's where your loyalties lie, eh? Well, you better watch behind your back, Quirrel, cause when you turn around, I be right there behind you." They heard echoing footsteps, slapping against the marble floors. The footsteps suddenly stopped. "Right behind you!" shouted Snape from down the hall.

The three friends pulled away from the wall, stunned.

Ron smirked, "Wow, Snape's exit was sooo corny."

Hermione turned up her nose, "And he didn't even use proper grammar. The fiend!"

Harry looked smug, "Need any more proof?"

Hermione looked questioningly, "Just one more thing."

"HAGRID! Hagrid open up!" Hermione beat on Hagrid's door.

Hagrid opened the door, and smiled, glad to see the only three students who liked him, "Well hullo Hermione, I know yer anxious ter see me but yer don't haveta-"

"We know about the Sorcerer's Stone!" shouted all three in unison.

Harry blinked, "Hey whoa, that was weird. We all said it at the same time. And we didn't even have to practice!"

Hagrid ignored Harry, "Oh."

"Hagrid," asked Hermione, "What did the stranger in the pub, the one that gave you the dragon, ask you about?"

"Oh, yer know, just polite conversation. Do you like dragons? How do you get past the three headed dog at Hogwarts? Do you think flesh eatin slug repellent will kill off Fruit Eatin Slugs? That kind 'o stuff."

Harry looked at Hagrid in horror, "Did you TELL him?"

Hagrid looked offended, " 'O course I did! I'm not one to hold back information on slugs if THAT'S what you're thinking!"

Hermione anxiously shook her head, "No Hagrid, he means, did you tell the stranger how to get past Fluffy?"

Hagrid smiled, "O course! I says to him, all yer have ter do is ter play a little music and Fluffy'll go right ter sleep. Music soothin' the soul of the savage beast 'n all."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked at Hagrid in horror. "Come on!" shouted Harry, starting to run back in the direction of Hogwarts.

A look of understanding passed over Hagrid's face, " I shouldna have told yer that. I shouldna have told yer that..." Hagrid retreat mumbling back into his hut.

Harry panted next to Ron and Hermione as they sprinted down the hall to the Headmaster's office, robes billowing out behind them. "All right, let's run down to Professor Dumbledore's office and—" They ran into Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stack of books.

"Mister Potter...and friends! What do you think you are doing!" she shouted pompously.

"Professor McGonagall, Someone's going to try to steal the Sorcerer's Stone for Voldemort!"

McGonagall looked at then in shock for a moment, "I don't know how you knew that, but I assure you that the Stone is well guarded."

Harry had a calculating look in his eye, "I need to speak to Dumbledore!"

Professor McGonagall's eyes filled with tears, and her face turned red, "So...so you don't think I'm good enough, is that it?"

Harry's face softened, "Look, I didn't mean it that way."

"Oh no, I know exactly what you meant! Besides, he's left for an urgent ministry meeting. But all you...all you want to talk to is him!" McGonagall sniffled, "Fine, well, well just be that way!" She ran crying from the room.

"No, hey, come on, I didn't mean it!" Harry called after her.

"There's no time for that," said Ron, dragging Harry back to reality,

"We have to stop Snape. But how?"

Harry's mouth was set in a hard grim line, "We're going through the trap door...tonight!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione opened the third floor door which would lead them to the trapdoor...and to the Stone. Hermione propped the door open with a loose board. It was dark, but they could still hear Fluffy's deep breathing. A bewitched electric guitar was playing 'Stairway to Heaven' in the corner.

"Oh no! Snape must have got here first and put Fluffy to sleep with the guitar! Come on, hurry, get down the trap door!" Suddenly the guitar stopped.

But they were all to busy trying to open the trap door to notice. Fluffy awoke and saw the three humans trying to get down the hole in the ground, they were scrawny, and not worth the effort. Especially the dorky thin one with the four eyes. Not when the door was OPEN and freedom beckoned! Fluffy raced out of the door and down the corridor. The castle echoed with the screams of terrified students, and the clang of the 'Other Students That Don't Really Matter As Much As Harry Alarm'.

"Ladies first." Said Ron, his voice cracking. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and jumped down the trapdoor. Ron followed and, with a gulp, Harry jumped after him into the darkness and waiting danger below.

Dumbledore walked into the empty ministry building. "Hello? HELLO!" It was the darndest thing. He could have sworn the message had said the twenty second...or was it the twenty third? Oh well...

_**Oddly**_


	7. The Dark Lord Fails Again

(looks right) (looks left) "Ok…." Siriusly whispers to her readers. "I think their gone-I-I think they've left…yes. Well, on with chapter seven!" Siriusly slowly raises a fist and silently punches the air. In the background dozens of flying squirrel dive out from the sidelines. "AHHHH!" Siriusly screams as one neatly perches on top of her head. Exit stage right…

That Loser

**Chapter 7: The Dark Lord Fails Again**

"_Edmund…"_

"Ommp!" Harry exhaled as he landed heavily beside Ron; he had just fallen from a twenty-foot drop, and was very happy he had something soft to land on.

"It's a—plant." Stated Harry lamely, as he fingered a leaf that was poking him in the ear.

"Wow." Said Ron, gazing about the dim-lilted chamber they were occupying, "Lucky this plant was here, huh?"

"Lucky?" Hermione screeched, hastily standing up and backing away from the two boys. "Look at yourselves!"

Harry turned his attention to Ron, it was true, they weren't so lucky after all, great big greenish-purple vines were rapidly curling themselves around the boys' body frames, and slowly they were sinking into the heart of the plant.

"Oh no! Oh no!" Hermione jumped up and down hysterically. "Ron's face is just acting as fertilizer!" A smaller vine slithered into the dirt and across his eyebrow.

"Hermione do something!" Harry struggled against the rope-like plant vines that were squeezing his throat.

"But what?" She screamed back at him, shaking her head, the fumes from her heavily hair sprayed head quickly killed off any vines that traveled her way. "I left all my good books in the common room!"

"J—just look," Harry whispered hoarsely, the vines cutting in tighter. Ron was in the corner crying and screaming. Distantly an alarm was sounding, but being ignored.

"No! No! Take Little Ron instead! Anyone but m—eee!"

"What?" A squeaky, outraged voice cried. "After all we've been through! Sacrifice that scrawny loser instead!"

Ron paused in his tantrum; he turned his head and gave Harry a meaningful look.

Harry glared. "No."

Meanwhile, Hermione was in the corner, surrounded by dead crunchy brown plants and fumes. "How to Knit a Safety Rope,…no…Activating the Harry Alarm…no…Dealing with Dangerous Plants…that can't be it!" She threw another book over her shoulder. "There's nothing here!" She cried, wringing her hands together.

Ron yelled as a flower sprouted on the end of his nose. "Do something! Are you a witch or not?"

"Oh, of course!" Hermione moaned, and slapped her forehead, she pulled out her wand. With a swoosh, and a wind of pink glitter, Hermione's tightly curled afro slowly untangled and settled down on her shoulders in honey blonde waves. "I should have done that a _long_ time ago!" But now with no more curls to radiate off of, the fumes slowly seeped across the room.

"Hermio—!" Harry was cut off as he slipped down inside the leafy foliage. The hairspray began working, eating into the vines and killing the stems, the green leaves turned brown and began curling.

Finally the last vine dropped, and Harry and Ron shakily stood up, walking over to Model!Hermione, their shoes crunching on what was left of the evil plant. A whisper drifted on a forgotten breeze, and floated across the room over the dead plants.

"_Edmund…"_

"Did you hear th—?"

"—Wow," Ron interrupted, "Lucky Harry didn't panic."

"No, lucky Hermione—" He paused. "You're right, lucky I didn't panic."

Hermione scowled, "So, this must be some of the protection that's guarding the Stone, I wonder what's next?"

"We're just going to have to find out." Harry said bravely; as he stuck out his chest and boldly threw open the doors into the next room. His two friends following after. The door slowly closed with a creak as the room was left empty once again, strangely silent, except for a wafting wind.

"_Eddddmund…" _

* * *

They entered the next room full of bravo and ready for anything, they were sadly putdown.

"Keys?" Ron questioned, sarcastically.

"Oh! Oh! Maybe they attack you as you cross the room!" Hermione suggested.

"Yeah…"

"Or maybe you have to get on that old broom in the corner and fly into the air, trying to catch the right key and opening the door with it!" Ron piped up.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Ron—that's stupid." Harry stared pointedly at him.

Ron blushed.

"Well…" Harry concluded after a couple silent moments of puzzled wonderment. "It's time to find out."

So, sticking his chest out once more, he gallantly crossed the room. Half way across, he gave a fleeting glance at the other two, no attacking keys. He reached the other side and turned confused to look at the rest of the Golden Trio.

"Now what?"

Hermione and Ron gave each other a look, and then turned towards him again. "Umm…well, try opening the door…?"

Harry raised an eyebrow in question, like that was going to work. So he placed his hand on the old brass knob and turned the handle, it easily opened wide to the next room.

* * *

Harry was shocked and slightly suspicious, but who cared? The door was open.

"Oh well." He shrugged and they entered the next room.

The next room was as standoffish as the last. It was filled with huge bizarre shapes and a black and white tiled floor.

"Maybe—you just walk across this one too?" Ron suggested.

"Let's give it a try."

So they continued across this room, planning on it being like the last, what they didn't expect was the lights to be flipped on, the strange objects to take the shape of chess board pieces, and a voice from the white king piece, that extraordinarily looked like Elvis, sound out to the three of them.

"H-h-h-hault right there Manure-Face, uh-huh." It sung out, indicating to Ron.

Ron colored behind the mud. "I do NOT have manure on my face!" he growled.

"If you wish to pass, you must def-f-eat me and claim my cr-cr-own!" He sung out again, and pointed to his head, sitting on top of the sequiny-clad king was a golden crown with a tiny guitar engraved on it.

"Fine! You're on!" Harry, Hermione, and Ron stomped back across to the black side and took random places on the chess board, Ron a knight, Harry a bishop, and Hermione a rook.

Harry quickly put on a huge Pope-like hat, and Ron was trying, unsuccessfully, to jump on top of a gigantic stone horse. Hermione twirled some drumsticks between her fingers.

When Ron finally perched on top of the horse, he turned towards Hermione, breathless and slightly red-faced, but it was hard to tell behind the manure.

"—What are you doing?"

"Hmmm?" Hermione quickly snapped out of her thoughts. "Well I am a rock star after all."

"No—you're stone, you're a rook, it's apart of a castle."

"What?" Hermione's drumsticks clattered on the floor as she hastily dropped them and her hands flew to her mouth. "No…that can't be right…books never lie!"

"Well maybe you just looked it up wrong-"

"No!" Hermione bristled. "No! I can't have—I—no! Not the books!" She huddled down into a ball and began rocking back and forth. "Noooooo…"

Harry averted his gaze from the disturbing sight, "Ok…uh, well we might as well start."

"Right." Ron nodded, "White goes first." So they turned and watched, waiting silently for the first move.

Pawns with afros to rival even Hermione's old hair strutted out to their places on the board, the bottom of their bellbottoms swinging with their hips. One on the far right cart wheeled to the square in front of her. Calls of 'You go, you jive turkey!' 'Beat that foxy diva, Manure-face!' and an 'uh-huh.' of approval from the King.

A battle cry rose from Ron's lips, either because he was sure they were going to win, or because of a manure crack one to many. "Let's Go!"

About an hour later, both teams were still evenly matched, but down to their last players; Ron with a sneer of determination on his face, and Hermione still rocking in the corner.

Ron gazed down at the battle field, analyzing the situation, trying to figure out the next move. His face blanched, seeming to have come to a problem, and then he sighed deeply, as if he wasn't going to like what happened next.

"Ok," he said. "In two moves, we can win, but I—I…" he hesitated, "I have to sacrifice myself."

Harry shrugged. "Ok."

Ron's head whipped around, he obviously wanted to hear signs of protest. "Wha—? But—but I have to sacrifice myself!" He repeated, thinking Harry hadn't heard him properly.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah—ok, take one for the team."

"Uh…yeah, right." He stared straight ahead, awaiting his fate, and moved one space forward, even though we know knights move in 'L' shapes, but hey, if needed bad enough in the plot, anything can happen!

Then out of the shadows the Queen appeared, finally they were able to see her in the light, she approached slowly towards Ron, the shadows leaving her face to reveal…Michael Jackson, looking unreasonably excited. "Little boys!"

Ron screamed and slipped off the back of his horse as the Queen attacked. An alarm was sounding far away without much notice from anyone.

Harry casually strolled towards the King, ignoring the carnage. "Checkmate."

The Elvis-look alike, so surprised, choked on his headache medicine and fell over dead, the crown slipping from his head, and a bottle of Aspirin rolling across the floor.

Harry bent down, picked up the crown, and straightened. "Drug overdose," he said. "How sad."

He turned his attention back to Hermione, "Hermione, its ok…it's over, you can stop now."

Hermione gradually uncurled herself. "Ok," she whispered quietly. "Wait—where's Ron?"

Both children turned their heads to look at Ron, who was now passed out on the tile floor.

"Oh he'll be fine!" he assured her.

Hermione turned uncertainly from the view.

"After all," Harry continued, "you don't die just because you get an arm chopped off!"

And so the Trio was cut down to two, the rest of the team bravely ventured forth, leaving Ron behind in his own puddle of blood, amputated arm and all. Oh come _on_, they were coming back!

* * *

The next room had a dead troll in it. It smelled something horrible, but nothing of real importance happens here, so let's move to the next room…

* * *

They stepped into the circular stone room and gazed at their surrounding, the room was empty except for an oak table standing dead center in the middle. Harry and Hermione slowly shuffled towards it, wondering what was on the table that was so important.

As soon as they left the entrance of the doorway; flames burst up out of the ground blocking both of the exits, the one back towards Ron, and the other leading towards Snape. It flared menacingly at them, burning a dark purple color, obviously magical.

The two first-years jumped as the fire erupted, then, giving each other a nervous glance, ambled forward still, towards the innocent looking table. As they reached the table, they saw what was lying on top of it, seven oddly shaped bottles, and a piece of parchment.

"This must be Snape's room, what does the paper say?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

Hermione picked it up and cleared her throat.

"_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you will find,_

_One among us seven— oh screw this, I can't rhyme._

_Ok, I lied, none will help you, Dumbledore said to give them a chance,_

_But really, why give your enemy even a chance?_

_So have fun stuck in the fire, but this trap is, after all, only designed to hold third-years and down,_

_But I don't lose sleep, because who really, besides first-years, would try and steal a heavily guarded stone that can rule the world?_

_That's just the evil git I am,_

_What am I? You ask._

_Well, first I was evil, then good, then a Death Eater, then a spy,_

_Then I was evil again, then a cunning spy, then a Death Eater, so I'm not really sure…_

_What I do know is, I AM THE HALF-BLOOD PRIN—"_

Hermione wadded the paper up without finishing it and threw it into the fire. "It's just crap, Harry. Nothing important there, we're just going to have to get through this on our own."

So they stood there for several minutes, pondering. "I know!" Harry shouted suddenly. "I'll run through the fire as fast as I can and try not to get burnt!"

Hermione looked up behind her book: Learning Freezing Spells Fast, she threw it into the fire along with Snape's note. "That's brilliant Harry! I couldn't think of anything better myself!"

Harry smiled, nodding, then turned towards the door. "Ok…" he exhaled, stealing himself—

"Wait!" Hermione spoke up. "Harry, before you go…I have to tell you something, Harry, oh Harry, you're a great wizard, you know."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hermi—?"

"No!" Hermione held up a hand, wanting to continue, "You're not like me! Books and clevern—books! There are more important things! Friendship, bravery, mops…oh Harry, Harry, Harry, just, be careful."

Harry was silent after her heartfelt speech, but still grudgingly tied on his red cape of bravery. "You just don't want to get burnt."

Hermione smiled slightly, "Yeah, that sounds about right. I'll be waiting here for you when you get back, oh! And bring back a bucket of water or something. And for the love of Merlin, DON'T BE A LOSER."

Harry felt that familiar prickle in the back of his eyes.

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes, "Just, GO!"

So Harry ran, away from Hermione's harmful comments, only tripping once in the heart of the flames, and continued inside the next room. Where someone was waiting for him, but it wasn't Snape, it wasn't George W. Bush, it wasn't even Voldemort—well, it was, but Harry wasn't smart enough to know that yet.

* * *

"Quirrell?" Harry gasped, clearly confused. His head felt oddly warm, the fire he ran through now nested merrily on his head, burning away at his hair.

"Yes," said Quirrell calmly, "me." There was a strange rustling noise and a faint voice. "Oh! Just _you_ huh? Yes, I'm sure I didn't help at all! Only gave you the idea and the means!"

Quirrell paled vaguely, "Master please, not now, let's not argue now…"

"When then?" The voice demanded. "When it fits into your schedule? It's all the same with you men! Me! Me! Me! Well let me tell you something mister! I have needs too! Kill Pooter, that's all I asked for, one little thing, and you can't even do _that_!"

The voice unexpectedly turned teary. "I mean—I've tried to make this relationship work…"

Quirrell was looking uncomfortable, "Uh…master…if it makes you feel any better, well, Potter is here—"

"POOTER!"

Harry, still relatively shocked to find out it was Quirrell and not Snape; let his eyes travel around the room. He wasn't exactly sure why Quirrell was here, but it paid to know what situation he was in. The room was circular like the last, but instead of a table, there stood a tall gold mirror against the far wall. It shined back at him with an air of enchantment, and somewhere far off, someone was playing the Harry Potter Theme Song as if drifted softly around the room. Harry turned his attention back toward the Professor.

"Wait—but Snape—he tried to kill me at that Quidditch match! And…and…and, the troll! And he was threatening you!"

"No dear boy, I tried to kill you. If it wasn't for Ms. Granger knocking me down, I would have succeeded too, even with Snape muttering his silly counter-curse. And I let the troll in! But Snape was too smart for his own good; he discovered my plan and headed me off."

The fangirls in the stands behind them munched on their popcorn happily, watching Harry's brilliant show of bravery. "You go Harry!" one screeched, another tried frantically to pass Harry a bucket of water, to put out his burning hair.

"But…he still threatened you…" Harry said desperately.

And this time Quirrell looked unsure, "Yes…but, that was because my master—"

"SHOW ME POOTER!"

He groaned. "But master…you're not ready…"

"I am ready for this."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Quirrell began to unwrap his turban. The fangirls booed and threw popcorn at his head.

The turban fell to the floor, and the professor gradually turned around, so the back of his head faced Harry, and what Harry expected to see was hair, but instead there sat another face. Chalk white, glaring red eyes, and slits for nostrils, snake-like.

Harry would have screamed, but for some reason he couldn't, he just stood there shocked, staring at his parents' murderer.

"Harry Pooter…" it hissed, "You see what I've become? See what I am…ten years, ten YEARS without a bath, or a manicure. If I am evil, then surely you are ungodly."

Harry felt his jaw drop in confusion, "What… back of his head…_what!"_

Voldemort rolled his eyes, "Harry, _pur-lease_, this is Britain, so let me continue…"

"To the Queen!" The fangirls waved their cups high and slurped, and then randomly threw them on the floor.

Harry continued to stand there quietly, but ever so slightly moved to face the mirror, what was the Mirror of Erised doing here? Could it help him find the stone? He must find the stone, find the stone before Voldemort does…But Harry miscalculated his angle, got caught in his red cape, and tripped, falling loudly face first onto the floor, but Voldemort didn't notice, he was too caught up in his monologuing .

"Ten years," Voldemort continued, "since that fateful day, when I was stripped of my powers left as vapor, not even a ghost, haunted to live my life in a never-ending world of pain. But then I met Mr. Quirrell and now I have hope, unicorn blood has sustained me, but what I really need is that stone…"

Harry peered up at the mirror from his place on the floor, looking for some clue as to where he could find the stone; then he saw it. His own reflection, lightning shaped-scar, green eyes, glasses, and black hair (still) caught on fire and all! He was giving him a '_You must be a loser_.' Reprimanding kind of look, and outstretched in his reflection's hand was the Sorcerer's Stone.

Harry felt a rush of excitement, forgetting even he himself thought he was a loser; the stone! It was near!

"…as I said, I need that stone, the stone in your pocket!" Voldemort finished triumphantly.

Harry looked up startled; stone—he didn't have the stone, all that was in his pocket was some lint.

"SEIZE HIM!" The Dark Lord screeched at Quirrell. Quirrell quickly whipped around and started after Harry, he grasped Harry's wrist. As soon as contact was made a sharp pain burned across his forehead, he yelled and struggled, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go.

Quirrell howled in agony and stared at his hands. "M—master, I can not touch him…it burns! My hands! My hands!" They were blistering before Harry very eyes.

"Kill him then! Kill the last Pooter!"

Quirrell raised his wand—but Harry, not really thinking (as usual), ran forward and flung his hands onto the professor's face.

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell screamed as his face blistered and cracked, he pushed Harry off of him, shaking in pain.

"KILL HIM!"

Then Harry knew, for some strange reason, Quirrell could not touch him with out feeling pain. So Harry jumped to his feet and bodily threw himself at the man, hanging on as long as he could, but when the searing burning pain was too much and Quirrell's screams had diminished, Harry slowly removed his hands, staring at the remains of his professor, the body still burning. Harry carefully kicked him over—Voldemort was gone; he had left his servant to die.

"Well," concluded Harry, wiping the ashes off his hands, the top of his head still oddly burning, "That was weird, but after all this is Brita—"

"TO THE QUEEN!" The fangirls cheered, a cup went flying off course and smacked Harry in the head, and then all he knew was lost, all he knew was falling in the blackness…

* * *

"Harry? Harry? Harry? Are you ok? You passed out."

Harry opened his eyes; the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view. He groaned and sat up, gingerly feeling his head; it was wrapped tightly in bandages.

"Sir…what happened… oh wait! The stone! What happened to the stone! I couldn't find it—"

"Of course not Harry," Dumbledore told him calmly. "You don't actually expect me to leave it in a place first years could break into? Oh no, I had it somewhere safe."

Harry suddenly felt very mad, he had traveled all the way threw that obstacle course for nothing?

"Well…at least Voldemort was fooled too…wait, you _had_ the stone?"

"Yes Harry, I have destroyed it, it will no longer hold a threat of Voldemort returning for it."

"So, how did I get here? Did Hermione find us a way out? Or a way to contact you?"

"No, your Harry Alarm went off."

"Oh, well Sir, does this mean—Vol—, I mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is gone for good?"

"Voldemort Harry, his name is Voldemort; fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. And sadly, no. He is not gone for good, they are ways—you have only delayed him to power _you loser, can't do anything right_."

"What was that Sir?"

"I said, who knows, maybe if he is delayed again and again, he may never return."

"R—right. Professor, if you wouldn't mind, there are some things—some things I'd like to know, if you can tell me, the truth…"

Dumbledore nodded, signaling him to continue.

"Well…why is it that Voldemort wanted to kill me?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Alas, the first thing I cannot tell you, one day, you will know…later…"

"Ok… why is it that Voldemort could kill my father and mother, but not me?"

"You're mother died to save you Harry, if there's one thing Voldemort can not understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's would save you, he could not touch you that night, could not touch a person marked by something so good, _yeah good but no brains_."

"Huh?"

"That's why the spell rebounded and destroyed him instead of you!" Dumbledore spoke up slightly louder than before.

"Hey! Is that why—is that why Quirrell couldn't touch me down there? Because of my mother's sacrifice?"

Dumbledore sighed again. "No Harry, you were on fire. You really need to pay more attention in potions, and not do stupid stuff like run into giant flames. Your head developed third degree burns. Just lucky for you, Quirrell had sensitive skin." Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

Harry once again touched the bandages, so that's why he had them…

"One more thing…did you send me the Invisibility cloak?" Harry questioned him.

"Why yes, it was your fathers, I don't know if you've heard this before, but you look just like James, but the eyes, the eyes are Lil—" He paused staring into Harry's blue eyes.

"What?" Harry questioned as Dumbledore fell into silence. "Ohh…" He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and when he opened them they were green again. "Sorry, they do that sometimes…keep changing colors for some reason…"

"Uh—anyways, I thought you might enjoy it." Dumbledore suddenly pulled out a trench coat. "But when you get older and learn more advance magic, you find there are other ways…" He winked, nudged Harry with his elbow, and gave him a thumbs up.

Dumbledore then retained his composure and stood up. "Well Harry, I'll leave you to your candy, it seems that you have many admirers… of course what you did down there was a secret, but naturally the whole school knows."

* * *

Ron and Hermione came to visit him the next day.

"Look Harry!" Ron held up his arm and pointed to a very faint scar where his arm had been chopped off. "I can move my fingers again!"

"Oh Harry!" Hermione flung herself at him and gave him a hug. "The whole schools talking about it, what really happened down there?"

So Harry told them everything, Snape, Quirrell, the mirror, and Voldemort.

Hermione was pale at the mention of the evilest wizard of all time, and Ron was looking impressed. "That's wicked."

"So, what happened to you two?" said Harry.

"Oh, well, the flames finally died out, it wasn't a very strong spell, and I rounded up Ron, we almost got trampled by a bunch of fangirls, and then Dumbledore came down and got you, that's really about it." Hermione riddled off.

"Hey, listen," Ron cut in next. "You've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course—you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you—but the food'll be good."

"Sure," Harry smiled up at them, "wouldn't miss it."

* * *

Harry's next and last visitor was Hagrid; he was looking unusually large inside the small hospital room, and sheepish.

"Oh Harry…" he shuddered. "You could have died! And it was all my rudding fault! Oldermorey 'uzing ad ta eel addd!" He started whining and flinging his arms about, Harry couldn't understand the blubbering.

"Hagrid! Hagrid! It's ok, I'm fine, really."

Hagrid gave a sniffle, "'Or course, I knew yeh would be—anyway, I came here to give you this—"

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book, inside it was full of wizard photographs, smiling and waving from every page were pictures of his mother and father.

"Sent owls off to all you're mum and dad's old school friends, do yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

* * *

The end-of-year feast was everything Harry had hoped for—besides the whole Slytherin winning thing. There was food and friends everywhere.

Everyone was talking loudly amongst themselves, chatting gleefully and trying to get enough time in with their friends before summer.

Moments later Dumbledore stood up and a hush fell over the Great Hall.

"Another year gone! And oh, what a year! Hopefully your heads are a bit fuller; you have all summer to get them nice and empty before next year starts…"

"But, the house points need awarded, and even though it says Slytherin won, this is not so." All the other houses perked up.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione's adventure gives me just the excuse I need to award Gryffindor 1000 more points! Now it doesn't look like I just favor Gryffindor and think they are better than all the other houses!"

Snape sneered into his plate.

"I think this means; we need a little change of decoration." And with an almighty clap of his hands…nothing happened. There was silence. Another clap, another.

"Oh, yeah!" A whistle.

Instantly the green hangings became gold and the silver became scarlet, the huge Slytherin serpent banner vanished and in its place stood a roaring Gryffindor lion.

Harry stood up and cheered with the rest of the houses, they were all excited that someone had beaten Slytherin. This was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls…he would never, ever forget tonig—what was I talking about?

* * *

Soon school had ended and everyone was once again aboard the mighty Hogwarts Express, exam results, and no-magic-out-of school- reminders in their hands.

"Go on Harry!" Ron urged, "Show us that photo album!" The three friends spent the rest of the train trip scanning the book, laughing at old and new faces and generally just being amazed.

"Look its Dumbledore! Oh, he's standing next to some one—Alastor Moody? Who's that?" Hermione pointed at a picture of the Potter's Wedding.

"Who cares, oh! Look at them! Who are they? They're standing next to your dad, mate."

Harry too peered down at the three men next to his dad in the picture, one was laughing and nudging James, and the other was smiling and waving at Lily, the last one giggling nervously.

"Hmm…I don't know…" Harry read the names off of the back of the picture. "Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew."

Scabbers squeaked suddenly and dived behind a trunk.

"Well they must not be that important if I've never heard of them. " Harry concluded.

The other two shrugged and continued to flip threw the pages.

Harry leaned back in his seat and smiled contently at his two friends, mold-face, and fro-girl, he would really miss Hogwarts.

Hermione looked up at him, "After the end of this year, I really hope you have a good holiday Harry," she told him.

Ron glanced up too, Harry just smiled, he had already told them about his 'family'.

"Oh I will," Ron and Hermione were surprised at the smile spreading across his face. "They don't know I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school."

Ron grinned. "Maybe you're not such a loser after all."

And the train curled around its last corner, and stopped at the station, the past year was great, but they were just as excited for the next.

* * *

The manor, which happened to sit on the peak of a hill, was covered in green ivy vines, strangling the house's windows from daylight. And of course, in front of the house was a rickety run-down fence, that's gate swayed in the breeze. Zigzagging from the gate, up to the house was a narrow dirt path.

It was at this house that a terrible suicide had taken place, but of course, the salesman failed to mention this to the newlywed couple as they began their first house-search.

"Ohh!" the young woman squealed in delight, grasping her hands together in joy. "This is it! This is the one! Don't you think so, honey?" In a swirl of curly red hair, the woman turned to her new husband; he was the level-headed of the two and merely grunted.

"If you want it." He rasped.

The salesman flushed in relief, "Why Doctor, your wife certainly has a good eye!"

He handed over the official papers for the house to the newlywed husband, and shaking, passed a ballpoint pen. It was over; he was actually selling the house! The house that had haunted him for months now…no one would buy it, but now it was all over.

"Oh I can't wait!" The Mrs. exclaimed. "Let's sleep in it tonight! Think, Cupcake, our own house!"

The doctor raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Oh that would be fine Mrs. Erin," the salesman assured her. "The house is still furnished and everything."

"It's perfect!" The wife agreed.

Doctor Erin finished his papers and handed them back to the salesman wordlessly. "If you insist, honey,"

"Oh, I do!" She smiled happily up at her husband, then embraced him, and gave him a peck on the lips. "Our own home." She smiled even brighter.

Later that night the lovely couple was just getting ready for bed, the new Mrs. was downstairs cleaning up the kitchen and the new husband was looking for her.

The stairs creaked as he made his way downstairs, walking past dark hallways and eerie lightning-lit windows.

"Amy?" Doctor Erin walked into the brightly lit room, "Are you coming to bed soon?"

Amy turned around from her previous position in front of the sink, wiping off her hands on a dish rag.

"Yeah, I've just finished."

He smiled lovingly at her, and she walked towards him, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and together they started walking out of the kitchen.

"What are all these ugly plants doing in here? We should throw them out." Mr. Erin addressed her.

At hearing this, Amy frowned, looking slightly frustrated. "Well, I've tried, but they just don't want to move, it's like they've been glued to the counters or something."

"Hmm…" the husband put an arm out, his hand grazing one of the plant's leaves. "Ouch!" He quickly pulled his arm back, this finger had a clean slice in it, crimson blood seeping to the surface and small drop ran down his index finger. He immediately put the finger in his mouth. "I didn't know they had thorns." He mumbled.

The wife narrowed her eyes in confusion, "But, fichus don't…"

"Honey, I'm fine, really." He told her, now shaking the injured hand. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

"_Edmund…"_

Two o' clock in the morning, Amy jerked awake, gasping for air; it felt as though someone had just been strangling her. She sat up slowly, looking around the dark room with wide eyes.

It was when she had calmed slightly that Amy noticed the wet sensation against the pant legs of her pj's. She patted the mattress around herself, again feeling the wetness. It almost felt as though someone had wet the bed.

"Urrrhh," she groaned, "What is _this?" _With another huff, she bent over and turned on the bedside lamp. The light and her scream pierced threw the room.

She stared shocked at her hands, the wetness she felt wasn't water, or anything else, it was blood. Blood, stained red, into her mattress. She turned her head to alert her husband when another terrible sight met her. He was dead, lying there face-up, eyes open, small thorn-like cuts all over his body.

Once she had stopped screaming again, she saw something that looked extremely odd about the body, beside the fact that it was dead. His face, her husband's face, was sagging, loose-like, as if it wasn't properly attached. Shaking, she reached out, her slim fingers gripping the loose skin, and pulled—it gave away cleanly, it was a mask. Beneath this was another face, a child's, looking just as loose as the last face, she pulled this mask off too. The next face, a woman's, off came that mask, the next an old man, the next a small boy, another girl, an old woman…

When the police finally found her, she was still sitting there in the blood, hunks of skin surrounding her, blood smeared all over her clothes and hands, a blank look in her eyes.

One police officer roughly grabbed her, pulling her to her feet, and shaking her. "Why'd you do it?" he cried. "Why'd you do it? What does it mean!"

But she didn't answer, only stared back at her husband's face, gone now of all faces, the words 'Edmund' carved deep within the tissue and blood.

* * *

HIP HIP HOORAY! WE ARE DONE WITH THE FIRST BOOK! This is kind of bittersweet, Harry's just growing so fast…(goes and runs off to a corner to cry)

Well don't fret faithful readers, it's not the end, we still have six more books to go, and if you thought this book was good, just wait, we don't even get out the good stuff till the second book.

So thanks for reviews (we really like those) and keep reading!

_**Siriusly **_


	8. Harry Gets the Floo

Hello Readers, Oddly here. Today's chapter is starting in on a parody of the second book, so I think I'll try to keep it short and sweet. Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story, we really like to see your input...output...whatever. So, enjoy the chapter, keep violence out of schools, and save the whales. Well...one out of three isn't bad.

Note to younger/ more sensitive readers There's nothing extremely scary in this story, but just writing this first part kinda creeped me out (I'm easily creeped). So if you, like me, scream when someone taps you on the shoulder and says hi, don't read this beginning section. Actually, it's kind of important so light skim it. All right, that's my last comment, I promise.

Note to readers Ok, I lied. Sorry. But I have to say one thing for liability purposes. I did not write the song "Follow the Drinking Gourd". It is not mine, and the rights to this song do not belong to me, but was only used in this piece.

All right, that's it. Sorry to keep you waiting.

That Loser

**Chapter 8: Harry Gets the Floo**

Two men in white uniforms carried a blue body bag out of the big old Victorian house on the hill. A bloodless, blue lipped face could be seen through the half-zipped bag, blank eyes staring through wispy blonde hair. Cloudy eyes, blue and ghostly.

A police chief shook his head, "I don't understand it."

A fellow officer bit into his doughnut, rummaging for a napkin as strawberry jelly oozed out of the corners of his mouth. "Uh...mhm."

Police Chief turned to Fellow Officer, "Do you know of any...what are you doing!"

Fellow Officer stopped wiping his jelly-covered hands on the passing body bag, pulling them away quickly and smiling, mouth still full of half chewed jelly doughnut.

Police Officer fumed, "Have you no respect? Do you even know what happened here?" Police Officer continued, glaring at Fellow Officer, "Another death, the third in this house. The woman was found only with this around her neck,"

Police Officer held up a plastic evidence bag containing a coiled rope. Fellow Officer shuddered and looked as if he was going to be sick.

"There wasn't anything else in the room, that's what I don't understand," Police Officer paced, "nothing to spark this sudden suicide. There was some books, a plant, some old newspapers...nothing."

The men in white suits loaded the bag onto a truck and drove slowly away up the winding hill into the city.

Police Officer shook his head and looked quizzically back up the hill at the old manor, "There's just something about this house..." A sudden breeze ruffled his brown hair as he turned away, headed back to the squad car. Fellow Officer followed cautiously behind, turning worried brown eyes back to the house.

"_Edmuuuuuuuund..."_

Fellow Officer shivered and dropped his doughnut, then hurried back to the car. Strawberry jelly stained the cracked sidewalk with crimson as the sound of the squad car faded into the muffled sounds of the city below.

The house on the hill stood above it all, green with ivy, dark with mystery. A light flickered in the attic. A window banged against the rotted siding. On the front step, a potted red fichus plant leaned into the wind on its slender green stem.

"_Edmund...all for you Edmund...in the window I saw you there...in my heart, you lived there once...Edmund...I will not forget..."_

Uncle Vernon rubbed his hands together, nervously twisting his ugly tie and smoothing his thinning hair. "Now, when the Sprocket's arrive, I want everyone in their places. Petunia?" Vernon gestured to his wife.

* * *

Petunia, with some effort, picked up an elaborate platter. Perched precariously on the platter was a mile high pudding (not the gloopy American kind, the cake-ish British kind) that was a disaster just waiting to happen.

"I'll be in the kitchen ready to serve the guests their drinks, and later, the pudding."

Vernon eyed the pudding, "Petunia, are you sure that thing is quite stable? It looks like a disaster waiting to happen."

Petunia waved her hand, "Nothing could be safer!" The pudding oozed a glob of radioactive green sludge onto the floor. "Oh dear. You'd better go on without me Vernon; I've got to mop up that mess. Before it eats through the floorboards...again."

Vernon shrugged and nodded, pointing to Dudley, "And you?"

Dudley rolled his eyes, tugging at the dorky bow tie Petunia had nearly strangled him with, "I'll be standing at the door waiting to blah blah blah."

Vernon nodded, "Yes, yes, and you," said Vernon, turning to Harry with a look of utter loathing, "Will be where?" Vernon handed Harry a piece of paper. "Read it!"

Harry looked down at his Uncle's messy writing and read what it said, "I, being Harry and not Vernon Dursley, will be in my room, trying as hard as I can to spontaneously combust so this family will finally be rid of me and my delinquent ways?"

Vernon nodded, "Excellent, excellent. Now go to your room!"

Harry sighed and trudged up the stairs, making a huge performance of being disappointed. Actually, he would much rather be in his room than at the boring dinner party where Uncle Vernon would suck up to his boss. And he would rather be anywhere else than eating that nasty pudding of Aunt Petunia's, you know, the pukey green kind she piles really high. That thing was just a disaster waiting to happen. Heck, it can almost be classified as biological warfare. Men in yellow biohazard suits once had to carefully remove the leftovers from the refrigerator in the middle of the night a couple of years ago when the pudding was first served. This had actually led to some rather difficult questions about Santa Claus in grade school (no, Santa wears red, no he does not give you gas masks for Christmas if you're bad, etc.).

Anyway, Harry was a little sad about not having the broom closet anymore. The Dursleys had finally gotten wise to his mop fetish, and had immediately moved him to a different room to cause him more pain and misery. Well, when he said immediately, he actually meant a few weeks later, as soon as they had stopped laughing at him and making bad puns, like "Look, it's The Lord of the Mops" or "Why don't you clean up your act, Harry". These puns didn't really make much sense, but they hurt him all the same.

Harry finally reached the top of the extremely long staircase, went into his room, and closed the door behind him, plopping cross-legged onto his bed. Putting his hands behind his head, he was about to close his eyes when he heard a strange voice, "Harry Potter?"

Harry assuming it was his uncle, he squinted his eyes closed and said, "I'm trying already, but spontaneously combusting is harder than it looks!"

Harry was suddenly hit with a bucket full of ice-cold water. He opened his eyes to see a strange looking...thing... wearing a dirty dishtowel holding a bucket. "Dobby will save the brave Harry Potter from a fiery death!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Uh...who's Dobby?"

The creature smiled, "Dobby is here, Harry Potter."

Harry swung his head around violently, "Who? Where? I don't see anyone!"

The creature shook its head, "No no, Dobby is here!"

Harry was beginning to get annoyed, "Where! There's nobody here! And who the heck is Dobby!"

The creature rolled its eyes, "I AM DOBBY!" A look of shock crossed its...Dobby's...face. "Dobby talked in first person! BAD DOBBY! BAD DOBBY!" Dobby hit himself on the head with one of Harry's shoes, then tossed it aside when he found it not painful enough. "Aha!" said Dobby, grabbing a mop from the floor.

"Dobby stop! Give me that!" Harry wrestled his mop from Dobby's clenched fingers. Harry pouted, "Don't touch the mops." His eyes narrowed as he stared at Dobby, hand compulsively petting the abused mop.

Dobby gasped, "Dobby is sorry, sir. Dobby is just here to tell Harry Potter something...and to get his autograph...a picture with Harry Potter..." Dobby suddenly started to drool, "A lock of Harry Potter's hair..." Dobby took out a pair of huge scissors and walked toward Harry with the expression of a crazed fan.

Harry backed away, "Uh...maybe another time."

Dobby shrugged, pocketing the scissors.

Besides this, Harry was still understandably upset, "So you're here to tell me something? Who are you...what are you...what are you doing here?" sputtered Harry.

"Dobby is a house elf," explained Dobby.

Harry looked at Dobby blankly.

"Er...Dobby is an elf that works for a family. A servant."

"Oh, so what are you doing here?" said Harry.

"Dobby has to tell Harry Potter that he is in great danger!" Dobby suddenly gasped, ran over to the drawer shut his hand inside. Eyes watering, he darted around the room hitting himself on the head with a waffle iron, using Chinese water torture, watching Infomercials.

Harry reached over and turned off the TV. "—is yours for the once in a lifetime price of $19.95, but only if you—". He turned to Dobby who was clutching his ears. "Ahhhh! Truly the greatest torture!"

Harry sighed, exasperated, "Dobby, don't do that anymore! Why do you do that to yourself?"

Dobby sniffed, "I have low self-esteem."

Harry suddenly put on a white medical coat, and picked up a clipboard, "Would you like to explain your feelings?"

Dobby sat down on a long leather couch, "Well, Dobby's feelings of inferiority all started when...oh no, no Harry Potter we don't have time for this!" Harry, dejected, took off his psychiatrist costume. "If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, bad things will happen!"

Harry was confused, "What do you mean?"

Dobby sighed, "Dobby can't say, wise Harry Potter. Just promise Dobby that Harry Potter will not go back to Hogwarts."

"Not go back to Hogwarts!" shouted Harry. "But that's the only place where people don't think I'm a loser...I mean...not go back to Hogwarts!"

"Harry Potter must promise Dobby that he will not go back to Hogwarts!"

"I won't!"

Dobby sighed, "Then Dobby has no choice." Dobby opened Harry's door and left the room, heading downstairs.

"Dobby no!" Harry quickly ran out of the room in pursuit. He reached the top of the stairs and saw Dobby disappear around the corner. Harry, ever so carefully, moved onto the first step. He had to be quiet; Uncle Vernon could NOT catch him down here. But of course, he had nothing to worry about because he was the famous Harry Poote—POTTER! Harry swelled with pride, tied on his red cape, and boldly stepped down. And tripped over his cape, fell head first down all four flights of stairs (long staircase, remember?) and finally crashing into the solid cinderblock wall. A picture frame vibrated from the impact and fell, the glass shattering noisily to the ground. Harry got up, still tangled in his cape. "Shhh! I gotta be quiet!"

He found Dobby in the kitchen, hovering over Petunia's nasty pudding. Harry gasped, "You wouldn't!"

Dobby smiled evilly, "Oh yes, Dobby would! Say Harry Potter is not going back to Hogwarts!"

"Never!" whispered Harry loudly, spraying spit on Dobby, and never thinking that lying could be so much easier.

Dobby's eyes turned huge, "Even Harry Potter's spittle is noble and true!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Just step away from the pudding."

The evil gleam returned to Dobby's eyes. He snapped his fingers, and the toxic pudding left its platter and started to hover over to the living room, where Vernon was boring his employer to death with a stupid joke about golfing. Harry ran after the pudding, his cape flapping in the wind picturesquely, but it was too late. The pudding fell on the wife of Vernon's boss, and started a large chemical fire in her hair.

"AHHHH!" she ran around screaming, until she finally ripped off her hair (which actually turned out to be a wig. If it hadn't been, that last statement might be a bit disturbing), then started stomping on her fake honey colored tresses. Harry could actually sympathize, having just barely a month ago having his own head caught on fire.

The fire was finally put out, leaving the wig charred black, the Dursleys stared directly at Harry with a look of loathing, and Vernon's boss's face a color of purple that rivaled Vernon's own.

Green pudding splattered the walls and furniture, Harry said lamely, "Uh...how—how's it going?"

* * *

Vernon, still holding Mrs.Sprockett's blackened wig and Mr. Sprockett's gray hat, followed his boss as he stomped angrily to the door, his wigless and shaken wife in tow. "Please Mr. Sprockett, the boy's a delinquent, I'm sorry for anything..." But Mr. Sprockett just glared at Vernon, grabbed Mrs. Sprockett's wig and his hat out of Vernon's hands. "It just so happens, that my wife's worst fear in life is to be embarrasses then burned alive." And with that, he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Vernon stared, dumbfounded for a moment, then turned with eyes full of hatred, toward Harry. Harry, trying to look innocent, pointed at the toaster.

Vernon's red complexion darkened another shade, "Are.you.trying.to.tell.me.that a TOASTER did this!"

Harry looked confused, eyes darting around the room, "Uh...is this a multiple choice question?"

Vernon's eyes bulged and steam came out of his ears.

Petunia looked at her husband surprisingly calm, "I knew he was only full of hot air."

An owl suddenly flew through the window and landed on Uncle Vernon's head, dropping its note on the floor. Harry stooped to pick it up. It was a reprimand for doing magic outside of school.

Suddenly, deep inside Vernon Dursley, something basic and fundamental snapped. Something as ancient as time and as crucial as scuba diving lessons. This thing is called reason; also know by others as sanity.

Vernon's head suddenly cocked to one side and he drooled silently for a few seconds.

Harry poked Uncle Vernon with his finger, "Uh...Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon's head snapped around, and he spoke, all the while, a twisted minor key nursery song playing in the background. "Harry, there are some things that as of now will be different in this house..."

**

* * *

**

**DAY 1**

Vernon cackled as he hammered in the last bar on Harry's window. "Now, I want this understood, you will not leave your room ever again. You will not go back to that stupid school. And you will never see your friends again. I am putting you in solitary confinement, and if you try to magic your way out—they'll kick you out!" Vernon's left eye twitched and he giggled. "Yes, yes." Then his face turned serious and he shut and locked Harry's door.

Harry, now totally alone and more than slightly scared about Vernon going completely insane, sat down on his bed. Had he said something wrong last night? Harry sighed and laid back. All he had to do was get through this...only seventy-some years to go...yeah. Harry then realized that this situation could be very, very bad.

**WEEK 1, DAY 1**

Harry leaned up against a wall, bouncing a red rubber ball against the wall. Music from "The Great Escape" played in the background. His weekly tray of food was shoved through the doggie door Vernon had installed in Harry's bedroom door. Harry lifted the tray and sighed...beets again.

**WEEK 3, DAY 5**

Harry heard a knock on his door. Vernon poked his head through the doggie door, still grinning insanely, staring at a much thinner, much paler Harry. "I'm never letting you out. Never!" He giggled madly and withdrew his head. Harry then went back to staring out of the window, and started to sing and play the African drums.

"_When the sun comes back and the first quail calls,_

_Follow the Drinking Gourd._

_For the old man is waiting for to carry you to freedom,_

_If you follow the Drinking Gourd."_

Harry's African spiritual was interrupted when he saw a blue dot in the distance. What was that? It was getting closer! Harry watched it for a few minutes as it got closer and closer. Suddenly, it disappeared for a moment, then appeared right in front of Harry's window. It was a small, flying blue Ford, and inside was Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley and two of his brothers, the prankster twins Fred and George.

"Oi! Harry, are you all right?" Ron's still dirt covered face was filled with concern.

Harry nodded, still in shock, "How did you know?"

Ron tapped his head, "All Weasley's are psychic, remember? Mum added you into the Weasley psychic hotline."

"Your...your mum actually likes me that much?" stuttered Harry; hopeful that one less person in the world would think he was not a loser.

Ron nodded, "Yeah. You're the only friend I've got, Harry, of course she likes you. Now com'mon, grab your school stuff and get in, you can live at The Burrow until school starts again."

Harry looked confused, "The Burrow? Are there furry woodland creatures involved here?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "No Harry, that's my house."

Harry smiled, "Ah, excellent!" He quickly threw his stuff into the trunk and grabbed Hedwig's cage. Harry hadn't been able to give Hedwig any food for the last week, since he barely had enough for himself. She hadn't moved for three and a half days.

Ron took Hedwig's cage from Harry, "Uh...Harry...there's something wrong with your bird. He looks...uh...dead."

Harry whirled toward Ron, throwing his trunk into the back seat. "It's a she, and she is not dead!" Harry avoided eye contact with Ron. Poor Harry, thought Ron. He's obviously in denial.

Ron tried to break the news as gently as he could, "Look mate, its not moving. There's a horrible odor coming from it. It's surrounded by flowers, fruit baskets, and blankets with inspirational messages embroidered on them for goodness sake. Give it up, mate!" His attempt at being gentle had failed miserably.

Harry felt the familiar prickling behind his eyes, "She is NOT dead!"

Ron rolled his eyes and pointed inside the cage, "Oh yeah? Then how can you explain the little coffin?"

Harry looked inside the cage and saw that, in fact, Hedwig was now inside a little black coffin. He delicately opened the lid and saw the white orchids nestled under her immobile wigs. Harry sniffled,

"She...she looks so peaceful. I...I...I guess it's what she would have wanted."

Ron softened a little, "Look mate, if it makes you feel better, you can pretend that she went away for a vacation."

Harry's grief-filled brain latched onto the idea with surprising and slightly unsettling speed, "What do you mean pretend? Of course she is! She'll be back before school, right Ron?"

Ron took one look at his loser friend's hope-filled eyes, "Sure mate. Sure she will be. Now com'mon, hurry up, your solid hour of crying your lungs out must have woken up somebody."

Surely enough, they heard the sound of clomping footsteps. "Harry!" It was Uncle Vernon.

"Hurry up Harry!" shouted Fred.

Harry quickly squeezed through the bars on his window (starvation does have its advantages) and hopped into the car. He grinned as he and his friends drove away laughing in the flying car. An old hymn echoing in the night, the Big Dipper twinkling in the background:

"_Follow the Drinking Gourd!"_

Destination: The Burrow.

* * *

"Is this it?" said Harry, admiration apparent in his voice. "Nice place!" Harry found himself looking at a huge white brick house with huge white marble pillars set with gold accents. A huge half-circle brick driveway led up to the house then curved away back toward the street. The walkway was lined with topiary bushes, manicured to perfection in gold decorative pots. A giant tree with purple blossoms filled most of the perfectly green front yard. A beautiful woman with a lacy dress and long blonde hair waved at the car from the position in the garden. Harry read a gold nameplate on the brick and woven iron gateway. "The Borrow. The Borrow? I thought your house was called The Burrow?"

Ron looked ashamed, "Um, that's not my house."

Harry blinked, "Oh. Is that it?" Harry found himself looking at a huge Victorian house on the peak of a hill. Green ivy snaked across the windows, and ran down a picket fence that surrounded the property. A dirt path wound around crooked trees all the way up to the darkened house. Darkened, that is, except for one light. The attic. Harry shivered compulsively.

"Is...is that it?"

Ron sighed, "No." He pointed to his left at the house across the street from the Borrow and the creepy house. "That is."

Harry followed his finger to where he was pointing. A small cottage with a nice dogwood tree in the front of the slightly browned yard stood, surrounded by a fence that looked freshly whitewashed. Harry didn't know exactly what to think. The house was kind of...frumpy looking...but pleasantly so. Toilet paper hung from the trees around his house.

Ron groaned, "Oh, not again! I just cleaned it up after the last time those stupid kids next-door teepeed us!" Ron took out his wand and gave it a wave, "_Scorgify_!" He shouted. The toilet paper disappeared in a puff of smoke. "Whew!" said Ron, "So much work!"

"RON WEASLEY!" came a shouted voice from the Burrow, "EXACTLY WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING WITH YOUR FATHER'S CAR!" A plump woman with curly red hair in a floral print apron stepped out of the house.

Ron turned red, "Uh, Mum, this is Harry."

The woman, whom Harry assumed must be Mrs. Weasley, suddenly turned bright and cheery, "Harry, you poor dear! Come inside and have something to eat, you look positively starved...and so does your owl. Starved to death..." Mrs. Weasley's sunny smile faded immediately, "RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE! YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!"

Mrs.Weasley looked at her clock, "Which should be...now."

A tall, red haired man walked through the door, "Morning Molly, Ron, Fred, George...and who are you?"

Mrs. Weasley's expression turned happy again, "Arthur, this is Harry Potter..." Her smile faded, "And you've got dirt on your nose Ron, let me get that." She raised a shovel and pick and turned on a light on the front of her yellow plastic helmet. "Now if I could just excavate that left portion, I think that would cause a cave-in which should clean that up nicely..."

Ron fought away the digging tools, "Mum, geroff!"

Arthur Weasley ignored the scene Ron was creating, running away from his mother, who was running after him with various metal digging equipment. He raised his eyebrows and turned to Harry, "THE Harry Potter? Wow...you're not as cool as I thought you would be...oh well, welcome to our humble home."

Harry smiled, unsure if he had been complimented or insulted.

"Um...thanks."

Mrs. Weasley gave up on Ron, and started to make a meal for Harry. Mr. Weasley went to the study to put away his briefcase. Harry leaned over, whispering to Ron through his teeth, "Ron, why is your mum so..."

"Bipolar?" Ron nodded at Harry's shocked expression, "Oh yes, mum's bipolar. Singing one minute, crying buckets the next."

"Can't they do anything?" said Harry staring at Mrs. Weasley as she chopped up the carrots, wondering if she would suddenly fling the knife into his chest.

Ron shook his head, "St. Mungo's tried, but there's nothing for it."

Mrs. Weasley's knife sliced through a carrot, and her left eye twitched compulsively.

Harry quickly adverted his gaze, and looked at a rather magnificent clock sitting on the mantelpiece. It had ten hands, labeled Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and...Harry leaned closer...did that hand say HARRY! Could they really care about him that much, to include him in the Weasley family? Harry sniffed, and looked closer at where the hands were pointing. There were three antique gold rings, one with a location, another with actions, the other with feelings.

Arthur's hand pointed to 'Home-picking nose-satisfaction, Molly's pointing to Home-chopping vegetables-happy. The feelings hand changed again-angry...-depressed...-happy...-angry...

Suddenly, a new golden hand popped up out of thin air, bearing the label: Being moody. Charlie's hand was pointing to Traveling/Work-cleaning up dragon dung-disgusted, Bill's pointing to Work-reviewing records-bored, Percy's pointing to Sleeping/Library-drooling on book-blissfully unaware, Fred's pointing to Home-throwing dungbomb-laughing, George's pointing to Home-throwing dungbomb-laughing, Ginny's pointing to Home-performing bat bogey hex-covered with dung, Ron's pointing to Home-in serious trouble-cowering in fear, Harry's pointing to Visiting-being nosy -STOP FOGGING UP THE GLASS!

Harry jumped away form the clock, then attempted to wipe off the clock's glass cover with his dirty sleeve. He looked around; making sure no one was watching him. He looked back at the clock. Visiting-looking around to make sure no one is watching him-guilty.

"What're you looking at, Harry?"

"Nothing!" shouted Harry, turning around to face Ron, standing in front of the clock to block his view. "Uh, just...looking around..."

"Dinner's ready!" said Mrs. Weasley. She sent a huge platter of roast beef and some candied fruits in front of Harry.

Ron jumped, his eyes reflecting the vision of sugarplums and roast beefs, dancing in his head. "Wow, real meat!" He grabbed a fork and speared a chunk of beef.

Mrs. Weasley slapped his hand, "Ronald Harry-Potter Weasley, that is for the guests!" Mrs. Weasley turned back to Harry, "Eat up Harry, you look positively starved."

As Mrs. Weasley turned away to amble back into the kitchen, Harry looked at Ron, eyebrow raised, "Ron Harry-Potter Weasley?"

Ron turned bright red, "Er...I can explain. It's an...an...uncle of mine, you know, Harrypotter Weasley?"

Harry snorted, "Right." He returned to digging into the first real non-beet food he had eaten in four weeks.

When he was sure Harry had forgotten about the whole thing, Ron sighed, brushing away sweat that had formed Grand Canyon-like gorges in his dirt covered face. That had been a close one.

From behind a partially closed door, a little red haired girl peeked at Harry Potter. If only he would notice her, he was soooo dreamy. She had always wondered what he would be like, and he was really nice...and cute. She momentarily scratched her head. Funny, when she had seen him a year ago, she had thought he just looked like a normal messy-haired loser. That had been when she was still wearing those hideous thick glasses. She had thoroughly disposed of them now, having wedged them up the chimney. She just could NOT be seen in those now that she was starting at Hogwarts. It must have been the glasses that had distorted Harry's handsome face. So now Ginny stared at the black and peachy skin-colored blur that was Harry Potter, the hottest guy in the world.

Harry suddenly felt as if someone was watching him, he put down his fork and whirled around to face the partially open door, a head of red colored hair quickly withdrew itself from the crack in the door. Harry shrugged and returned to his plate.

Ginny gasped and smiled, clutching one of Harry's shoes, which she had stolen, to her heart. He had looked at her! Dreams do come true...

Later that night, Harry was sure he had heard singing coming from outside his window, but when he went to look, he only saw a flash of red hair, and then nothing, he must have dreamt someone was serenading him...

**

* * *

**

**The Next Day:**

"Have you ever used Floo before, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked a very nervous Harry, who was staring at the fire place from which Fred had disappeared in a burst of green flame.

Harry made small gagging noises in his throat.

Mrs. Weasley nodded sympathetically, "I didn't think so. Don't worry dear; we're just going to Diagon Alley to get some of your school stuff. All you have to do is grab a handful of Floo powder, throw it into the fireplace and say the name of the place you want to go. Then you'll—"

"Be burned to a crisp in a fiery inferno of pain and misery?" interjected Harry.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Of course not, just go already."

Harry picked up a handful of the green powder, and immediately began to throw up, regurgitation yesterday's beef. "Is...it supposed...to...do this?" gasped Harry between chunks.

Mr. Weasley slapped her forehead, "Of course! It's your first time isn't it? Floo powder gives everyone a short flu the first time. Not to worry, it'll pass soon. See?"

He had finally stopped throwing up. Harry, his face very pale, stepped into the chimney, threw the powder, and, feeling the instant urge to tell his latest knock-knock joke, shouted, "Knock-" he gagged again, "turn-Alley." He disappeared in blaze of emerald flame.

Mrs. Weasley placed her hand to her mouth, "Oh dear."

Mr. Weasley chuckled, "Now that's a strange way to pronounce Diagon Alley! Is he Swedish or something?"

Ron stared at the now vacant fireplace with a look of horror, "I wonder where he ended up..."

* * *

Harry brushed ash, like smoking dandruff, off of his shoulders and wiped soot off his glasses. Where was he? The store he was standing in was eerily dark, though he heard the scuffling of feet in the next room.

Dark mahogany bookcases lined the walls, filled with strange products.

Harry picked himself up off the floor and looked around. A shriveled hand on a pedestal stood on a dusty mantelpiece clearly labeled (SOLD TO DRACO MALFOY—PICK UP: FIVE YEARS) 'Hmmm…that was strange' thought Harry, 'What would Malfoy need it in five years for? Oh well, that's not important'.

There were also jars of swiveling eyes propped up bookshelves full of dusty, forgotten tomes, their pages yellowed and brittle with age. Harry picked up a large, black covered book. Its cover looked as if it was strained with some sort of red substance, worn silver letters were scrolled along the spine of the dark book. Harry opened the book and read the first line aloud.

**"One sunny day, Mr. Bunny and his friend Mr. Peacock of the little**

**animal village Cabbage Patch decided to go have an educational adventure.**

**As they were walking along the path into the Happyfun Wood, Mr. Bunny pointed his furry little paw at a tree. 'I say, Mr. Peacock,' said Mr. Bunny, 'Do you know how many apples are on that tree?'**

**'Well' said Mr. Peacock, 'There are 3 + 5 apples in the tree. How much does 3 + 5 equal, Mr. Bunny?'**

**'I do believe that if we add them together, there are—"**

Harry threw down the book. This was pointless! Harry stepped back in the fireplace, gathering the unused Floo powder from the floor. And then he threw down the powder for another trip, he completely failed to notice a familiar drawling voice in the next room.

"Ahhh...yes...I'd like to sell today, my kind sir."

"Sell? Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, I have some stuff that—that might discredit me with the magical community...they're doing those raids again..."

"What would you like to sell?"

"Ahh, yes." Mr. Malfoy pulled out a long list and pushed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yes, one iron-maiden torture device, some—uh—certain potions, a cute fluffy puppy, my ant-farm, two Ricky Martin Fan T-shirts, some pink fingernail-polish, and ten pounds of cotton candy..."

Harry took a deep breath, "Digon Alley!"

* * *

Harry appeared in a dark, fenced in plot full of tombstones. The ground felt squishy. Harry looked at an old iron sign over the cemetery.

"Die Gone Alley?" Harry groaned, "Not again! Wait, Die Gone Alley? What a stupid name for a cemetery! But..." Harry, who was talking to himself, starting to notice some movement out of the corner of his eye, "…why do they call it Die GONE Alley? Sounds like a cleaning fluid. Honestly, what is—"

Suddenly, a gray, moldy hand clamped onto Harry's shoulder.

"Uhhhhhhrrrrggggg..." Said the zombie behind Harry.

Harry screamed. Somewhere, far away, in the forgotten summer halls of Hogwarts, the 'Harry Alarm' buzzed to life.

"AHHHHH! Stay back, you! I had cleaning implements, that will wash you away, you filthy zombie scum!"

"Uhhhhhhhhrrrrggggg..."

Harry took out what looked like a small bat from his pocket. He shook it, and it expanded into a mop. "Aha! I bet you weren't expecting a collapsible mop!"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhrrrrggggg..."

Harry then hit the zombie with the mop. It promptly collapsed to the ground, its arm falling off, mumbling 'uhhhhhhhhrrrrggggg'. Harry threw the remaining Floo powder into an outside fireplace.

"Digun Alley!" he shouted.

* * *

The square was full of liberal muggles holding picket signs and chanting, "Die Gun! Make Peace not War!" outside of a local gun store.

Harry sighed. "Will I ever get it right? What's wrong with me anyway?"

Harry scraped the last of the Floo powder off of his sneakers, and raced into a nearby furniture store. "I hope this works: Diagon Alley!" he shouted, standing in the fireplace. Third time's the charm. He disappeared in flash of green flames.

* * *

Bob Marrison, the fifty seven year old Discount Furniture Store manager rubbed his eyes. He could have sworn he'd just seen some strange loser kid rubbing the bottom of his shoes, then spontaneously combusting in the fireplace. First the riot, then those strange people in cloaks and pointed hats asking if this was some street called Diagon Alley, now this? Something very strange was going on here. Bob shook his head, "Bad business. Bad business." He walked over to the door and switched the sign to 'Closed'. He was going to go to that nice Dr. Lane, yes, the nice doctor with the nice soft rooms. And the pretty white jackets. And those nice men in the white truck, though he always wondered why they carried needles. Maybe they were diabetic. Yes, he would go to the nice doctor. Yes...

* * *

"Oh, Harry dear, we were so worried!" Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a huge, smothering hug.

"Mmmmfffmmmuuurgmmmffff." mumbled Harry.

They were now heading into Flourish & Blotts for the last item on their lists, school books, when Harry suddenly recognized a head of frizzy hair behind a large book called Magical Me. It had a huge picture of a blonde wizard smiling on the front. "Hermione?"

Hermione looked up, "Harry! Ron! How was your summer?"

Ron shrugged and Harry grinned, "Ok." He then noticed a huge group of people hovering around the book-signing table. The blonde wizard that was on Hermione's book was smiling and handing out autographs. "Who's that?"

Hermione pulled her attention away from the book, "Hmmm? Oh, oh him! From now on he's Professor Lockhart, he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year, you know, since it's been recently...vacated. Isn't he dreamy?" Hermione stared at Lockhart, little birds and pink lace hearts flew out of Hermione's wand, tweeting and/or fluttering in the breeze around Hermione's fro.

Ron and Harry looked at Lockhart, then back at Hermione, then back at Lockhart. Ron shook his head, "Honestly, I don't know what you see in him."

Hermione grabbed Harry and Ron, "Come on! No time for small talk, I have to meet Lockhart!" She forced her way through the crowd to the front of the table. Hermione giggled. Ron's eyes grew huge. HERMIONE giggled. Hermione GIGGLED. HERMIONE GIGGLED! Hermione never giggles! But she ignored Ron's widened-eyes and held out her copy of Magical Me,

"Hi, I'm Granger Hermione...I'm so sorry," Hermione snorted, Harry and Ron stared, openmouthed, as they watched Hermione making a total fool of herself, "I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm a huge fan!"

Lockhart smiled brilliantly; Harry looked away, blinded by tooth-glare, "Why thank you Granger Hermione! Ha!"

Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm, "This is my friend, Harry Potter...oh, and that's Ron...uh...Ron..."

"Weasley!" shouted Ron, unbelieving.

Hermione waved her hand, "Yeah, right, whatever."

Lockhart's eyes were now fastened on Harry, "THE Harry Potter?"

Lockhart grabbed Harry's arm. Harry was sure his arm was going to be bruised before the day was over. "Here, you over there, yes you with the camera. Yes, my good woman, THAT camera. Take a picture of me and Harry Potter, who has just earned himself my whole series, including Voyaging with Vampires, Walking with Weirdoes, Tangoing with Trolls, Double Dating with Dragons, Traveling with Toenail Clippers, Hassling with Hairdryers, Wonders with Water Masks, Adventures with Acne, my Driver's Education experiences in J-Walking with Jarverys, And its best selling sequel Parallel Parking on Porlocks. And, of course, who could forget my autobiography, Magical Me?" Harry squinted against the light of the flashbulbs. He struggled against Lockhart's grip and the huge stack of books he had shoved into Harry's hands. He finally managed to break away, and ran back to the Weasleys.

"Potter in the limelight, what a surprise." Said a drawling voice behind him.

"Malfoy, what are you doing out from that rock you live under?"

Ron's hand curled itself into a fist, "I haven't forgotten that poor crack you made last year Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh please, Weasel, as if—"

"Draco, don't associate with scum." A taller version of Draco stood behind Malfoy holding a silver snake knobbed cane, his hand on Draco's shoulder, he glared at the bunch then noticed he was still holding some cotton candy in his other hand; he quickly threw it on the ground.

Mr. Weasley grimaced, "Hello Lucius. Didn't expect to see you here."

Lucius Malfoy smiled coldly, swishing his long black cloak, "Trust me Weasley, the feeling is mutual." Lucius suddenly, very plainly took a small black book he was also holding and tried to 'slip' it into Ginny's cauldron.

Mrs. Weasley gasped, "What was that?"

Lucius snapped, "Darn it, I was going for sneaky. Oh well, _Obliviate_!"

Mrs. Weasley blinked, "What?"

Lucius pointed to a second hand copy of Ginny's book by Lockhart: Giving a Care for your Hair. "I was only saying how inferior your hair is to mine."

Arthur bristled, "My hair care products are ten times better than yours!"

Malfoy laughed, "My hair is much more shinier than yours!"

"Mine has more bounce!"

"Mine's stronger!"

"Mine's more cleansing!"

Unexpectedly Malfoy and Weasley were suddenly locked arm in arm in a fight of hair products. Fist flew as mutters of: "Better hair than...ask anyone...MINE!" drifted from the combating.

Only after three bookcases had tipped over and one stranger mauled, did Harry and Hermione finally pull them apart.

Lucius looked furious and handed the same book he was trying to slip in earlier towards Ginny. "Here's your book back then, girl."

Ginny eyed him coldly, "I already have my book, why are you trying to give me that one?"

"Uh..._Obliviate_!" He quickly stuffed the book into Ginny Weasley's cauldron while all of them were distracted.

He smiled crookedly, "Well, come on Draco, we'll go to Barnese & Nobleus instead. Their books won't have been contaminated by the Weasley stench.

The Weasleys, as a collective group, discreetly sniffed their armpits.

"Hey!" shouted Fred after Draco and Lucius, "I'm still Spring Fresh!"

Harry stared at him.

"What?" said Fred. George shrugged.

* * *

"Now make sure you haven't forgotten anything." Said Mrs. Weasley, bustling around the Weasley children and Harry outside Platform 9 ¾. They all told her they had everything they needed and headed toward the platform with their trunks.

"Look, Ron, have you seen my other shoe, I looked everywhere but I really can't seem to find it!" Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair in frustration.

Ginny quickly pulled her robes over a conspicuous shoe-sized bulge in her handbag.

Ron shrugged, "Haven't seen it. Is anything else missing?"

"I don't think so." Harry turned around to navigate through the crowds of people closer to the platform. The entire back side of his head had been completely shaved.

"Uh, Harry?" Ron's eyes grew huge.

Harry's hair suddenly grew back out, exactly as long, and possibly even more messy than before. He turned around to face Ron, "What?"

Ron scratched his head confused, "Uh, nothing."

Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny walked through the barrier.

"Now Ron, if you or Harry," Mrs. Weasley stopped to pinch Harry's cheek, "need anything or have forgotten anything, your father and I will be at your great uncle Chad's until eleven." Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waved, and disapparated with a poof of smoke.

Ron smiled, his face beaming scarlet with Weasley pride, "Aren't my parents just great?"

Harry rubbed his cheek, still pink from Mrs. Weasley's pinching, "Uh yeah, they're great." Actually, Harry would have loved to say he was totally jealous, but really he pitied Ron. Harry knew the Dursleys, if they could really be called his family, weren't all that great, but the Weasleys were just kind of...weird. Harry would take toxic pudding and X-Treme Grounding over the Weasleys any day. Mrs. Weasley's face, her eye twitching compulsively, would haunt his dreams for some time afterward.

"Com'mon mate, let's get on the train." Said Ron. He ran headfirst into the barrier and passed through. Harry, smiling, followed his best friend, as he ran in slow motion toward the ever-closer brick wall...

* * *

Harry struggled to open his eyes. "R—ron?" He felt as if someone had replaced his head with a watermelon, and as if his glasses were particularly large, and as if his hair was messy, and his knees were gross and knobby, and...oh wait, he always felt that way. He was alive!

Ron was leaning over him, preparing to do CPR in front of a crowd of interested/horrified muggles.

Harry quickly pushed Ron away, "Ew, Ron stop!"

Ron jumped back immediately, embarrassed. "Look, I didn't know you were—"

Harry fixed his glasses, which were hanging askew across one ear, "Thanks for the nightmares, mate." Harry gasped, "Oh no, I'm picking up your bad grammar!"

The crowd of muggles, seeing that there was no chance of anyone dying, or turning an entertaining color of bluish purple, or being given CPR, or making a total fool of themselves in public, wandered away, sifting back into their boring daily patterns.

"What happened?" asked Harry, trying to clear his head.

Ron rolled his eyes, "You ran for the wall, but you missed and hit a moving train." Ron suddenly gasped, "You really ARE The Boy Who Lived! Are you indestructible? My brother Charlie has this gigantic needle that he uses on the dragons, if I were to..."

Harry backed away, "Uh, I don't think so Ron."

Ron, disappointed, hung his head.

Harry shrugged, "So, anyway, what now?"

"I dunno, the train's already left...hey, my mum and dad left the car here. Do you think we could...?" Ron shot a glance at the small, beat up blue car. "It has an invisibility lever..." He dangled the car keys in front of Harry's nose.

Harry scratched his head, "Well...should we? No. But will we?"

Harry glanced at the car. "I'M DRIVING!" He snatched the keys from Ron and took off toward the car.

Ron's eyes widened, "Oh no you don't!"

_**

* * *

**_

_**Oddly**_


	9. Road Trip

Cookies to all the reviewers! I love you guys dearly. I'm addicted to them, and you guys don't want me to have a withdrawal do you? I didn't think so, so please review, ask questions, whatever, and we'll answer you.

That Loser

**Chapter 9: Road Trip**

"Ok...ok...just—just step on the gas pedal..." Harry coached soothingly to Ron. "LIGHTLY!" He screamed as the car reversed sharply, bowling over five muggles, strike.

"I got it Harry! Jeez..." Ron rolled his eyes, taking them off the road and they hurtled into a ditch. Harry flew forward and got a mouthful of leather. Slowly he pushed himself up from his face-first dive into the seat and glared at Ron.

"Just get it in the air."

Ron blushed, hardly noticeable under the layers of dirt and pulled down a lever. The car sputtered and soon was floating three feet off the ground. Harry gave Ron another meaningful look; he blushed again, and whirled the steering wheel around, the car pulling up into the clouds. Not before crashing into a roof, taking out a flock of geese, and making an illegal U-turn. Various people pointed up at them and gawked as dead birds fell into their yards. Ron waved down at them and Harry had enough sense to put on his red cape.

But soon they rose higher, and out of sight. Ron suddenly laughed and pointed down at the dashboard. "Oh look! The invisibility button! I had forgotten! Could have saved us some trouble, eh, Harry?"

Sometimes, Harry could almost understand Uncle Vernon's strange behavior.

**

* * *

**

**Four Hours Later...**

"Follow the train you said," Ron was muttering darkly to himself, arms crossed, in the driver's seat. The car was on autopilot. "It'll be fun, you said. Take the car Ron! Who needs to take the train!" He was shouting hysterically now, the sun beating down on them, turning Harry's skin red, and the sludge on Ron's face dried up and cracked.

"Would you shut up!" Harry commanded. "I didn't close the gateway to the Platform, I certainly never said it would be fun, and you were the one who suggested the car!" He slammed back down against his seat, the leather molding to his skin.

Ron sighed, pulled up, and with a _RIPPP _detached himself from the leather, he leaned over and looked at Harry. "Look, I'm sorry mate, but Weasleys shouldn't be out in the sun that long, I think it's the hair."

Ron slowly leaned back into his body-imprint on the seat, there was silence for ten minutes, when.

"What's that smell?" Harry turned to look at his companion; Ron's nose was scrunched up in disgust.

"I'm not sure." Harry lied.

Ron waved a hand in front of his face. "Man that reeks! What IS it?"

"The mold decaying off your face." Harry muttered darkly as the smell reached him too.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Ron sighed, and leaned back into the seat, partly because he was bored and partly because the smell was making him light-headed.

"Bored...bored...I'm so bored..."

Harry snarled in frustration and angrily ran his hands threw his black hair, making it stand up in messy spikes.

"Look," He commanded, "Let's go check on the train."

Ron quickly lifted his head from the lazy lull, he grinning wildly. "Excellent!" He swiftly switched off the autopilot and gripped the wheel tightly between his two hands. Then with a jerk, they dived underneath the clouds and in sight of the train-tracks of the Hogwarts Express.

But they couldn't see the train anywhere, so they dove lower, thinking there might have been a fog or something, but still no train.

"Lower?" Harry suggested with a shrug.

"Yep."

And it seemed like a good idea at the time, to dive so low that they were practically driving on the train-tracks.

They looked right; they looked left, but no train, even though technically they should have been looking forwards and backwards...

"Lower?" Ron asked, squinting at his right, through the non-existent fog.

"We can't go any lower Ron." So they stayed there, cruising along the train-tracks, not noticing the huge shadow that fell against them and ignoring the train-whistle's frantic shrills.

It was quiet, too quiet.

"Do you hear something?" Ron asked bravely over the pounding of the train wheels gliding across the tracks, he did not want to raise a panic.

Harry slowly turned, peering at him suspiciously. He knew this game, oooh yes. He knew where questions like this lead, all those men with the clip boards and flashy badges, say you hear things and all of a sudden you were locked up in the white room. Well, Not. Again.

"No." He answered cool and defiant. They would never take him!

"Huh," said Ron, starting to sweat a little as the noise of the whistle sounded off even louder than before. "Only—only I thought I heard something..." Ron did not want to look crazy in front of his only friend. Well there was Hermione, but she didn't count.

_Somewhere on the train..._

Hermione stiffened for a second, and then slowly relaxed. Something had made her really tense for a moment. She wondered vaguely why, she had just suddenly developed a passion for secretly undermining Ron's life. Hmmm...

She looked down at the floor, had that book been there before? Hermione scooped it up, the title flashing in bright pink letters: Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship.

This just might come in handy...

* * *

Ron was heating up faster than a polar bear in Texas; he blinked sweat out of his eyes as he turned once again towards Harry. "Are you sure you can't hear...?"

"NOOOOOOooooo!" Harry threw himself bodily away from Ron. "You'll never catch me—!" I'm sure after a couple awkward sentences and questions the whole ordeal would have straightened itself out—but this was never to be, because at that moment the car door gave away against Harry's exerting pressure.

So. As he hung there, one hand on the door handle, flailing about wildly and screeching like a girl, he saw that, indeed, what was making the real noise was the Hogwarts Express; as it threateningly blasted its whistle once more. Harry was astonished to see that they were so close to the train and still right on track, so he expressed his astonishment.

"Oh. Huh."

Only it came out as: "AHHHHhhhhhfortheloveofmerlinpleaseronhelpmeineverdoubtedyouaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Seeing as Harry finally knew they were so close to the train, and he already knew that, Ron effectively maneuvered out of the way. And besides the fact that Ron could barely drive a car, let alone fly one, and that Harry couldn't catch one letter out of thousands floating slowly in mid-air, Ron still pulled off some wicked flips and turns, and Harry still held on, none the less.

Ron then safely pulled his best friend back into the car; Harry slamming the door shut behind him. He was red in the face from embarrassment and panting, he gave Ron a grateful smile. "Wow, that was close—"

The car door flew open once again, and Harry tumbled out of the car, hanging on by the door handle, with one hand, again.

"HARRY!" Ron screamed, taking his eyes off the roa—clouds.

With a wild jerk the car pulled back, so that they were now even with the Hogwarts Express. In a moment of quick-thinking Harry pulled on his red cape, he had to keep up appearances after all.

The windows of the train were suddenly flung open and Draco Malfoy popped his head out. "Ha! Would you look at that loser!" A couple more Slytherins' heads appeared; laughter ensued. Three windows over a strange mousey boy was rapidly taking pictures.

"Ron! Help me!"

Ron looked torn, something was bothering him. "But...but, Harry! You have your cape on! I'm not supposed to help when you're in your tragic-hero zone!"

Harry's eyebrows furled together, "Bugger that for a lark!"

So with out much hesitation, Ron snapped open the glove compartment and took out a can of spinach, then quickly downed it and reached for Harry. He latched onto his arm and pulled Harry once again into the car, saving the day (and indeed Ron would probably never do something heroic or save the day ever again, so it was a shining moment for him, lets just leave the rest of the saving to Harry, the cape looks better on him, after all, red clashes with Ron's hair).

Harry, once again, looked winded. "Well...what was the chance of that happening twice—"

The car door burst open and Harry, with the grace of a newborn giraffe, hurtled out of the car.

"What the—" Ron rolled his eyes and yanked Harry back into his seat.

Ron could only glare as Harry sheepishly chuckled. "Isn't this just odd—"

The door flew open and sucked Harry out.

"Oh come ON!"

Not really bothering to even reach for his friend, Ron gave the car a sharp jerk to the right and Harry flew back inside, smacking down onto the car seat.

Slowly, he righted himself, rubbing his head with his hand. There was a couple moments of silence, Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't—" Ron warned.

But it was too late, smash went the door, and eek went Harry, and they were in the same situation again.

"No! no!" Ron screamed hysterically, "I mean REALLY! I'm not helping you next time!"

But Harry was used to this by now and pulled himself up. And he didn't stop once he was in the car; quickly he vaulted himself into the backseat. Ron gave a sigh of relief. Now it was on to Hogwarts...

* * *

Many miles away, in Mr. Weasley's old shed out back, were he fiddled with his 'mad muggle' items and inventions; was a small square table, seemingly misplaced and standing boldly in the middle of the room. And the only thing found on that table was four tiny bolts, sitting there forlornly and casting small shadows across the hut.

* * *

Ron was prodded awake with a poke from Harry's wand.

"Wake up Ron! Wake up!" Harry hissed into his ear.

Ron quickly jolted awake and blinked his eyes rapidly, then slowly turned around to look at Harry, and pointed dumbly to himself. "Aren't I driving?"

"Oh, well yeah...But listen! We're almost there!"

And he was right, Ron could see, out the window stood Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, tall and proud. All right...it _could_ have looked more impressive...

But they were flying over the huge lake by now and had more important things to worry about. "Eh, Harry? Where are we going to land?"

Harry squinted across the darkness. "I-I don't know, why, look, will you? Is it just me, or does the grounds look different to you...?"

Ron peered out the car too. "Yeah, you're right mate, it's all...rearranged, or something...what the _heck_?"

Harry nodded his agreement. "_Strange_...I didn't know they could do that..."

"I don't think they can..."

"This suggests changes in directors..._or an evil plot to bring back Voldemort_!"

The clear sky quickly gathered clouds; there was a flash of lightning and a bolt of thunder. The sky then cleared.

Ron's rat, Scabbers, quiet for most of Harry's first year, and not having made a sound yet this year, suddenly gave a frightened squeak.

"Whatever-Ron, just land over there by that tree."

Ron slowly looked up from the wheel, his face draining of color. The clouds started to gather again.

"I _can't_."

* * *

On the ground, beside the table with the four small bolts, was sitting an innocent-looking brake pad.

* * *

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

The car would not swerve, turn, or slow down, so even though they weren't really surprised that they crashed into a huge willowy tree, it was still pretty shocking.

The car plummeted into the heart of the tree, the hood crunched, engine steaming, windshield cracked, one window shattered, and Harry's old door snapped open compulsively.

Ron gradually raised his head from his crouched position, and Harry slowly uncurled himself from a protective ball.

Ron had a black eye and Harry was sporting a bloody lip. They looked at each other and broke out into mad fits of giggles.

"I can't-I can't believe-"

"WE'RE ALIVE!"

Hoots, catcalls, and air-punches were used. And they couldn't stop giggling. But the happy-fun time quickly came to a halt. Because the tree did something no tree should ever do. It punched Harry in the stomach.

Ron sputtered, "Ahha! What a lose-"

But he was silenced when a branch crashed through the glass and whipped him across the face.

"Bloody _hell_."

The fist-falling of the tree's branches pinged off the car like the downfall of hail, the larger branches leaving dents and crushing the windows.

"RON! THE GAS! THE GAS!"

"Lightly...?"

"BUGGER THAT! STEP ON IT!"

Vroom. Vroom.

With Ron's expert driving skills, he and Harry were just able to fall out of the tree without flipping the car. And after the aftershock of the landing, they were able to sputter about 30 yards away, out of the reach of the tree.

Then something else unexpected happened, Harry and Ron were launched from the car, followed by Scabbers, Hedwig, and their trunks.

They quickly scrambled to their feet, Ron glaring defiance at the Whomping Willow.

"That stupid tree!" Ron bellowed. "Why is it even _there?_ I mean, it has no significance to this story at all!"

Scabbers squeaked.

Harry nodded along. "Yeah, so... anything broken?"

Ron checked himself and his stuff over quickly, then looked up at Harry, his face radiating horror.

"YOU'R FACE!"

"Ron I've always had that scar." Harry reminded him calmly.

"Oh yeah, kinda looks like Abraham Lincoln..."

"-Let's go."

The tree flailed against the night sky, a whisper drifting in the darkness _"Edmund..."_

* * *

The front doors of the castle flew open and slammed against its hinges.

Harry glared at Ron. "SHHH! WE HAVE TO BE QUIET!"

"WELL I'M _SORRY_!"

"NOW ALL WE NEED TO DO IS SNEAK UP TO OUR DORMS AND KNOW ONE WILL KNOW THE- oh, hello professor."

"PROFESSOR?" Ron whirled about.

Snape had appeared out of the darkness, Harry's least favorite teacher, and for being known for being so mean, Harry was very creeped out and suspicious to find that he was smiling. A smile that left a little glint in his eyes and a nasty smirk on his lips.

"Potter...Weasley." He drawled, "Explain to me why you weren't on the train, not good enough to arrive like the rest of the student body, wanted to show up with a...bang?"

Harry opened his mouth to explain.

"Silence. Come. With me. Now."

* * *

Snape lead them to his chambers and ordered them to sit. He in turn, walked around his desk and hunched over the table. His smile had widened.

"So..._so…_"

Harry was slightly terrified of being alone in Snape's chambers. So he sat there, still in his red cape (lucky Snape hadn't noticed), stupidly.

All of a sudden, Snape made a fast movement, the two Gryffindors flinched. In Snape's hand was a paper-no-a newspaper, with a picture of a flying car that looked very familiar, Harry only totally recognized it when the moving picture of a boy fell out of one of the car doors.

"Nine muggles-NINE! Spotted you," Snape growled. Harry was surprised at the speed that the wizarding world published their newspapers. "If you were in my house I'd have you kicked out of here faster-" But then he stopped himself, looked up expectantly at the door, and waited. Nothing happened.

"If you were in my house," he tried again. "I'd have you kicked out of here faster-" Again he paused, angrily looked at the door and huffed. Once more.

"I SAID: If you were-" The door flew open and the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore walked into the room. "As it happens. You are not!" The Headmaster looked immensely proud of himself.

Snape sighed, "No, no, you were totally off! Come on Albus, we rehearsed this, I am mean and threatening and you come in right in the middle of my fit of rage and use my speech with your magnificent play of words, recovering yourself and them from their impending doom."

"Well I..."

"You know what? Just never mind! You always ruin my skits!" Snape stormed out of the room.

"Awakwaaaard." Ron spoke up.

Dumbledore turned, frowning. "You boys better go; I think you've learned your lesson, yes?"

"Of course." They chimed.

* * *

Harry and Ron, very sleepy and relieved to have made it threw that ordeal with out a punishment, tiredly dragged themselves up the many staircases and to the Gryffindor Common Rooms.

By some amazing amount of fate, they met Hermione right outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. She looked upon them in disapproval.

"So, a flying car?"

Harry groaned, "Hermione, just leave it be!"

Hermione huffed, and threw her hands up. "Fine, fine. _Basilisk_."

"What?"

The Fat Lady moved aside and Hermione turned back to look at Harry. "Oh, that's the password."

"That's a strange password." Ron commented.

"Oh really, you guys, it means nothing at all. Now let's go inside...I think that there's a party being thrown on in your honor..."

Indeed there was, Harry had just stepped inside, was flashed in the face by a bright light and met with loud cheers.

The face behind the bright light called out. "Hi! I'm Colin Creevey! And you're Harry Potter, I've heard all about you of course...can I get your picture?"

Harry was faintly confused. "Ah-alright." He quickly straightened his red hero cape and smiled.

_FLASH. _

"Harry, mate! How'd ya do it?" Fred and George Weasley appeared at his side, Fred's arm across Harry's shoulder.

"Maybe you're not such a loser after all!" Harry beamed.

"Anyways," they continued. "Nicely done, we'll be right back-going to nick some food for the party."

"What? How?" Harry questioned.

Fred only winked. "Prankster secret, but one day we'll fill you in." And with that they were gone. In the background there was the squeak of a rat.

And they partied late into the night.

* * *

Later in the night, a lone figure dressed in black sneaked silently into the 2nd Year Gryffindor Boy's Dorm. Quietly the figure crouched beside Ron Weasley's trunk and pried it open slowly, then proceeded to pull out his socks and scoop peanut butter into them. Carefully the figure replaced them in the trunk and sneaked back out, not a sign that she or he was ever there. Only the fading memory of a black-clad stranger carrying a book, the title flashing in the moonlight: Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship.

* * *

The next morning Hermione found her two best friends eating breakfast in the Great Hall. She silently handed them their schedules and sat down beside them.

Ron was looking slightly thoughtful, his feet made a squishing noise when he walked.

Harry scanned their list. "Herbology first." He commented.

Hermione nibbled on a piece of toast and smirked to herself as the smell of peanut butter wafted across the table.

Harry stood up, "Ready?"

And the two followed, ready to start their first day of second year, a new school year, one more year checked off the list until...well, who knew? Scabbers squeaked in Ron's backpack.

* * *

The small band of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second years were making their way across the grass towards the greenhouses, today they would be working in Greenhouse Ten, where the more dangerous plants were located. Today's lesson looked to be exciting.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were late; they ran hurriedly along, crossing the courtyard as fast as they could. They were almost across when something small forcibly threw itself in front of the group. It was the small mousy first year Gryffindor, the one with the camera.

_FLASH._

"H-hi Harry! I'm Colin, remember?" the little boy stuttered, his small frame shaking with excitement.

Harry rapidly blinked, trying to clear the echo of the flash out of his eyes. Then he smiled smugly and gave Ron a side-long glance. Ah-ha, he was a role model! Wasn't such a loser now, was he? Harry quickly pulled his cape on. Hermione was looking slightly annoyed, and Ron was looking questioningly at his shoes again.

"One more picture then Colin," Harry grinned toothily at him. "For my favorite fan."

Colin gasped and fumbled for his camera, he was shaking even more now.

_FLASH._

"W-w-wow! Thanks Harry!"

Harry smiled and waved cheerfully as the trio began their journey once again towards their destination.

* * *

The three second years arrived very late and out of breath. So as they walked into the greenhouse, red in the face, and panting for breath, they were very surprised to find that the professor had not noticed, and that she in fact, seemed to be crying and having a breakdown.

Hannah, a Hufflepuff, nervously raised her hand while in the background Harry, Ron, and Hermione quietly took their seats. "P-p-professor Sprout?" She was met with wild sobs. Hannah tried again. "Professor? Are you ok?"

"Noooo!" the Head of Hufflepuff wailed, causing the students to jump back in shock at the sudden noise.

"What's wrong Professor?" Hermione spoke up, sounding concerned.

"I-I-I," She sniffled, the tears stopping, her lip trembled. "He said no!"

"Who?" The class chorused.

"Flickwick, I asked him to a dinner at the Three Broomsticks and he refused!" Again she started sobbing.

Harry, wide-eyed at his teacher's display, leaned over towards Hermione. "What is this all about?"

Hermione whispered back out of the corner of her mouth. "Mid-life crisis."

"Ahhh."

Another Hufflepuff girl suddenly spoke up brightly. "Well then we'll just have to make him like you!"

Professor Sprout stopped crying and looked up at her class. "What? You-you would help me? Really?"

"Of course!" The class chimed in. No, the class was not nice, considerate twelve year-olds, and they were not stupid, they could easily see that 'helping-out' good ol' Professor Sprout would use up class time.

"That's fantastic!" Professor Sprout peaked up quickly. "I know the first thing we should do! Make a love potion!"

Hermione gasped. "But Professor! Those are illegal!"

The professor glared. "You will do it Miss Granger, or you will receive a 'T' in my class!" She threatened hysterically.

"T-troll?" Hermione whispered, shaking in fear.

The professor nodded grimly.

Hermione instantly snapped up straight in her seat. "Alright then, if we're going to do this thing, then we are going to do it right. I'm in charge of phase one, potion-making." Hermione commanded in her bossy tone.

A Hufflepuff boy named Ernie opened his mouth to protest. Hermione turned to him, eyes blazing. "And don't you dare disagree with me; I'm the smartest person in this year!"

And that was that, the rest of the day Hermione sent people about collecting different types of plants, seeds, flowers, stems, and roots. Some people collected pus, labeled seeds, and others chopped plants with their wands, since no one had their potions-kit, figuring they wouldn't be using them.

Harry and Ron were apart of the group chopping plants with their wands. Harry was on his third plant when he finally looked over and noticed Ron's problem. It appeared that although Ron was trying very hard to complete his task, no amount of wand-waving was working for him. Harry could see he was becoming frustrated. Then it clicked.

"Oh, Ron, is your wand still broken from the car crash?"

Ron paused in mid-wave; he seemed to latch onto this idea very firmly. "Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. My wand-broke. I mean, yes, it's still broke." He said this quickly to Harry.

Harry hesitated, gave Ron a strange look, then sighed and went back to his plants.

"Ron!" Hermione commanded from the front of the greenhouse, her and the professor were now scheming together. "Go collect some flowers from that plant over there," she pointed to a huge plant in the corner; it was a reddish-green. "But be careful, the plant will attack you if you have any food on your person, it loves human food," she gave him a wicked grin. "especially nuts."

Ron, as usual, ignored the advice and tried tackling the plant, wrestling the flowers from its stems. The plant shook and wrapped its long red vines around him, giving off a weird cat-like screech.

"AEEEEdmundEEEE!"

Twenty minutes later, Ron emerged, bloody and defeated, with no flowers. Hermione sighed very dramatically and walk over towards the plant herself, she quickly picked four flowers and roughly shoved them into his hands.

Frowning, Ron walked back to his seat, his feet squishing as he took his steps. Annoyed, he sat down and pried off his shoes.

"Ahh!" A triumph shout from Ron was heard across the room. "I have peanut butter in my socks!" He was smiling ecstatically, like he had just accomplished some incredibly hard goal.

The plant stirred in the corner.

_"Edmund..." _

"Class dismissed!"

* * *

After Herbology, was lunch, so covered in mud (and blood in Ron's case) they hurried to lunch, Defense Against the Dark Arts was next.

Hermione was quietly sipping her soup, planning something perhaps? She kept shooting quick glances at Ron. Ron was chowing down, and Harry, was watching Ginny, who was sitting across the table writing in an oddly familiar book...he couldn't quite place it...Every now and then it would make ringing noises, ones you might hear during an AIM chat. Harry pondered what this might mean.

The attention of the table was then turned towards the sky; a late owl was flapping towards the trio, carrying a scarlet letter. Ron finally looked up, gravy dripping from his mouth, he turned pale.

"It's a Howler."

_**

* * *

**_

_**Siriusly**_


	10. The End of Mold

Hey Readers, thanks to those of you that have reviewed us! (All ten of you…) twitch Well, guess what, since there have been only ten reviews you all get the SHOUTOUTS! you deserve: Thank you Jubechix, for our first review (I just wish I could speak Spanish!). Thank you Kohikari (slurpcrash To the Queen!). Thank you Candi Apl Sweet (luv it when friends review!). Thank you ambiance15 (I'm sorry you were offended.) Thank you nomuerta (for two loverly reviews! Yes, yes, I know Siriusly, I stole your word.) Thank you Cricket-Mac-Wocky (that is totally the most awesome name ever!), and thank you Evercare for a very complimentary review (blushes really you're…you're to kind). Anyway, thanx to all the reviewers. If you are upset because your name did not appear on this list, then you need to go review this story right now! Hurry, run fastly! Ha, spell check is telling me that "fastly" should be "fatly". Well, there you have it, run fatly ladies and gentlemen.

And, while you're running fatly, enjoy the chapter!

PS (If you have reviewed since I have written this thanks, then…uh…thanks and sorry I haven't seen it yet…will see it…will have seen it…whatever.)

That Loser

**Chapter 10: The End of Mold**

The owl plummeted in a lopsided spiral, like a football with feathers, straight into the gravy basin.

"Errol, ha, stupid bird." laughed Ron nervously, as he detached the scarlet envelope from the owl's leg.

As soon as he broke the seal, the letter exploded in the sound of Mrs. Weasley yelling into a thousand megaphones, "RONALD WEASLEY, WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING? STEALING YOUR FATHER'S CAR HAS LEAD TO AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! Of course I don't blame you, Harry dear. RONALD WEASLEY, IF YOU PULL ONE MORE STUNT LIKE THIS I AM BRINGING YOU STRAIGHT HOME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? Oh, and Harry, would you be a dear and say hello to Albus for me? AND DON'T THINK YOU'RE OFF THE HOOK RONALD, BECAUSE WHEN YOU GET HOME _WE.WILL.BE.HAVING.WORDS_! GOODBYE! I MEAN…GOODBYE. I MEAN, I'M SORRY DEAR, I'M DON'T WANT TO YELL AT YOU, IT'S JUST THAT…ARTHUR, HOW DO YOU SWITCH THIS THING OFF? I'M NOT SURE MOLLY, ANYWAY, THAT'S NOT IMORTANT, LOOK WHAT I..UH…BORROWED FROM THE OFFICE. A GENUINE MUGGLE TOILET! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ITS USE IS EXACTLY, BUT THE PLEASANT WHOOSHING SOUNDS IT MAKES LEADS ME TO GUESS THAT IT'S SOME FORM OF ENTERTAINMENT. ARTHUR, THE HOWLER IS STILL ON. WHAT? OH…UH...WOW, THIS IS AWKWARD. SORRY ABOUT THIS RON, UH, YOUR MOTHER AND I LOVE YOU…SO UH…BYE. _MOLLY TURN THIS THING OFF RIGHT NOW! _I'M TRYING BUT I CAN'T FIND THE…OH, THERE IT IS: _MAGNIFICUS SILENCIO!"_

The Great Hall was full of the echoing of the Howler, and a growing tide of laughter. Ron sunk down into his seat, his face as red as his hair. Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically. Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

Harry cleared his throat "Look, Ron-"

Ron raised a hand, "Just…just don't say anything, ok? I don't want to talk about it." Ron shuddered, "No amount of counseling will ever be able make this moment all right."

* * *

"I mean, really, I don't see why you like the Chudley Cannons, Ron." said Harry, as he Ron and Hermione we walking to their first class. "They never win, their Beaters think that the bats are some kind of fashion accessory, their Keeper thinks that the object of the game is to get the other team to get the ball through your goal, and their Seeker has a notoriously short attention span."

Ron opened his mouth in protest, "Hey, he does not!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Remember Quidditch Regional Cup 1977 when Bullard Stump flew off the field in the last ten minutes of the deciding game for a corn dog? No Ron, not easily distracted at all."

"And," pointed out Hermione, "their Chasers' orange uniforms totally clashes with her red hair."

Ron, The Boy in the Orange Sweater-Vest, blushed as Harry, The Boy Who Lived, cleared his throat discreetly.

Hermione looked confused, "What? Oh. OH! Oh, I mean, uh, it…it looks good on you Ron!"

Ron shuddered, but it was not because of the angry tears he was holding inside, it was because Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had just passed through him. "Nick! You know I hate it when you do that!"

The ghost looked up from some sort of paper he was reading, "What? Oh dear, I'm dreadfully sorry. I'm afraid I'm a little bit distracted. I've just gotten this letter that I have been denied entry into The Headless Hunt once again. Those picky little…stuffy…thinks he's sooooo dashing…ooh ooh I'm scaaaaary my head's completely off…dangling by a thread…I'll show him…_almost _headless indeed!" Nick gave a ghostly snort, "And now, with my death day coming up-"

"WHAT!" shouted Harry.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes, I suppose that might seem a little strange to one of the Living." Nick sighed, "It's a sort of anti-Birthday celebration, remembering the day I died." Nick's dull eyes suddenly lit up, "Oh, Harry…and friends…you absolutely must come to my party and tell The Headless Hunt Committee how scary you think I am, and put in a good word for me. After all you're a celebrity!"

Ron's eyes lit up with little golden stars.

Nick waved his hand dismissively. "Not you."

The stars were extinguished.

"I meant Harry! Would you please come?"

Harry looked uncomfortable, "Um…sure Nick."

Nick jumped, or levitated actually, up and down in glee, "Thank you so much. The party is tonight at midnight. Don't be late!"

As Nick glided happily down the hall, Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione, "What have we just done?"

* * *

Later that day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in Lockhart's class. Harry and Ron were drooling, as Lockhart recounted every excruciating detail of his first photo shoot. Hermione, sitting on the edge of her chair, was taking notes in a pink pen, and dotting her "i"s with little hearts.

"So, with a little background ambiance lighting, the wafting breeze of an electric fan, and a reasonably attractive face, you can look about half as fabulous as I do in a photo shoot! Any questions?"

Ron raised his hand, having recovered from the shock and humiliation of the Howler, "Uh, are we ever going to learn anything about _defending ourselves against the dark arts_ in this class? I mean, so far we've covered, Chapter 1: Marvelous Manicures, Chapter 2: Finding the Fashion Forward in You, Chapter 3: Deliciously Dyed Hairstyles, Chapter 4: Why Split Ends are a Fashion Don't, and Chapter 5: Why People With Gross Knobby Knees and Hideous Facial Scars Should Never Be Famous."

Harry felt his face heat up. He had struggled a bit through that last chapter, although he couldn't really figure out why.

Ron continued, unabashed, "So when will we get to, you know, the spells and the dangerous creatures, and stuff?"

Lockhart smiled dazzlingly, sending a girl in the front row running out of the classroom toward the infirmary, screaming "MY EYES! MY EYES!"

"I'm glad you asked that question, Red headed kid with the bad complexion!" Lockhart handed Ron a copy of Facial Appearance and You by Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Hey!" objected Ron, shoving the book back into Lockhart's hands, "I have a name, you know!"

Lockhart smiled knowingly, "Right, right. The little people are people too. Yes, anyway, I am glad that you brought that up, as I have brought with me today, a little surprise for you."

The whole class sat up and wiped the excess drool off of their faces as Lockhart struggled to heave a heavy iron cage with a cloth cover onto his desk.

"There!" gasped Lockhart, as the cage landed on the desktop with a _thunk_ and what sounded like an insect-like chattering from inside the cage. "Ladies and gentlemen…and people with bad complexions…-"

Ron silently fumed.

"You will be facing some of your worst fears in this room. I must ask you not to scream, as it may-" Lockhart ripped the cover off, "-PROVOKE THEM!"

The class sat in silence and shock for a few seconds before the laughter started. Seamus Finnegan, snickering audibly, raised his hand, "Cornish muffins? We're supposed to be afraid of _Cornish Muffins!_"

The cage contained about ten golden-brown, steaming hot, nut covered Cornish muffins. They weren't moving, growing large teeth, or doing anything that could be described in the least way as threatening.

Lockhart pumped his arm as if he had won a victory, "I'm glad you asked, Seamus! Although they may seem harmless at first, I assure you that these muffins are the worst wreckers of the Atkins Diet in the world!" He paused to hold up the chair behind his desk like a lion tamer, "Back, you destroyers of the Ultimate Trim Figure, back!"

The class collectively blinked in astonishment.

"Oh yes," said Lockhart, "these are devilishly tricky little blighters. They tempt you with their delicious scents, and packaging that boasts 50 less fat, but it's all a lie!" Lockhart paused to point to Harry, who had his hand raised. "Yes, Harry?"

"Uh, Professor, I still don't see why they're so dangerous. Or how they are related to the Dark Arts in any way." The class muttered their agreement.

Lockhart was starting to look flustered, "Oh yeah? Well…let's see how you like them…NOW!" He swung open the cage door with a dramatic flourish.

The seemingly innocent muffins suddenly sprouted large fangs and shiny beetle-like wings, and jumped out of the cage at the startled students. A muffin swooped down on Lavender Brown, who shrieked with genuine terror as the muffin forced itself into her mouth. Her eyes widened, as she suddenly blew up like a balloon, groaning about her low carb diet.

"Now how will I fit into my prom dress!" she whined.

Two muffins cornered Neville Longbottom in-between a bookcase and a table of autographed Gilderoy Lockhart pictures.

"W-what do you want!" stammered Neville through terrified tears.

One muffin opened its mouth and rasped in a low grating voice, "Do you know the Muffin Man?"

The other muffin looked at the first in confusion, "The Muffin Man?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron chimed in unison, "The Muffin Man!" Harry suddenly blinked, as if coming out of a trance. "Ok, this never leaves the classroom." Ron reddened and Hermione gave a feeble nod.

The first muffin continued, unabashed, grabbing Neville by the front of his shirt in true gangster style, "I said, do you know the Muffin Man!"

A look of comprehension passed over the face of the second muffin, "Oh, oh, who lives on Drury-"

"We don't have time for this!" screamed Lockhart, "I have a class to teach, and besides, you guys are seriously stealing my spotlight." He waved his wand eloquently and chanted "_Merry Muffin Metronomes!"_ Not surprisingly, nothing happened.

The class panicked and ran, with the exception of Lavender who waddled, out of the classroom at full speed.

"Ah…I'll just ask you three to nip these muffins back into their cages!" said Lockhart, as his pulled open a trapdoor under his desk marked **_Secret Bomb Shelter _**and jumped inside.

Harry and Ron turned to stare at Hermione expectantly. She rolled her eyes, "Oh honestly! What would you two do without me?"

Ron raised his hand, "Uh, die…or fail. Or both."

Hermione sighed and flicked her wand. An oven appeared floating in midair. It flew around, chasing the muffins inside. When they were all safely enclosed, Hermione turned the dial to HIGH and smiled with satisfaction.

"Honestly, if you two would just do a bit of light reading! I mean, I don't know how could possibly couldn't have read How to Stop A Cornish Muffin Attack by 'Slightly Strange' McPherson and 'Oven Obsessed' Polarus. I mean, it's practically required reading in Home Economancy. We have to take it next year, you know."

Harry and Ron blinked, "Right."

* * *

Next was Herbology, in which Professor Sprout was still forcing her students to make a love potion to make the totally uninterested Professor Flitwick notice her. Hermione was chopping some sort of fluorescent pink bean, and has sent Harry to pick some polyweed and Ron to wrestle some seeds from the African Thorned Strangler Plant. Harry looked over at her questioningly as she giggled, reading from a book called Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship. Harry looked back at Ron, whose entire head had disappeared into the plant's gaping mouth.

"Uh, Hermione?" Harry tapped her on the shoulder.

Hermione quickly hid the book behind her back, "What? What do you want?"

"Look, I know you're loads smarter than me, but aren't gangly red headed geeks (_Loserus Maximous) _the African Thorned Strangler's natural prey?"

Hermione started to sweat, "Uh, no. NO!" She cleared her throat, "um, no. Harry, you barely pay attention in class, so just trust me ok?" She looked over at Ron, although all you could see of him now was one solitary boot, sticking out of the plant's needle toothed mouth, and compulsively twitching. She smiled secretively, "I know what I'm doing."

"What is this!" screamed Professor Sprout, looking up from, "_Misplaced Affections: The Sprout Story_, the Romantic Tragedy she was writing. She pulled Ron out from the plant by his ankles; he emerged slimy, and a little blue in the face.

"Hey Ron! The mold on your face is gone!" commented Harry. It was true, the mold had been completely digested.

Ron turned red, "Seriously WHAT MOLD! I swear, if I hear ONE MORE mold crack, I'm going to-"

While this exchange was going on, Hermione secretly smiled, and turned to the next page of Romantic Tensions: How to Control A Relationship, entitled, 'Got his Attention, or is he Still Clueless? Ten more Tips on How to Control a Relationship.' Hermione laughed evilly; Let the relationship control continue!

* * *

"Come on Hermione, we've got to get to that party!" Harry and Ron waited impatiently outside of the Girls' dormitories at 12:15 p.m.

"Just a second!" Hermione yelled from somewhere down an echoey hall. "Here!" she said, stepping carefully down the stairs in three inch black heels, "Do you think I'm overdressed?" Hermione was covered from head to toe in black, complete with large black hat and black umbrella.

"Uh, Hermione…it looks a little…" Harry searched for words.

"It looks like you're going to a funeral." said Ron, ever the sensitive one.

"Well, isn't that what it really is? And besides, you aren't exactly looking like Mr. Brightside yourself." Both Harry and Ron were wearing undertaker-worthy black suits.

Harry shrugged, "Well, what were we supposed to do?"

Hermione sighed, "Well, this is going to have to do. Let's go."

The three friends shuffled down the deserted night hallways, their footsteps clacking eerily in the crypt-like silence.

"Well, this is it." said Harry as they reached the lower level of Hogwarts, where dry ice stage smoke was being pumped into a candle illuminated dungeon. They stepped inside, where they were immediately greeted by Nearly Headless Nick who was looking a little flustered. "Harry! And friends…I'm so glad you've finally arrived, The Headless Hunt is wrecking my party!"

Harry peered inside, to see a group of rowdy men, all completely beheaded. The one that looked like the leader was carrying a head with a lampshade on it under his arm. "Nick! So who is this?" Some of the huntsmen stopped playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey.

"THAT'S IT, YOU'RE CHEATING!" shouted one of the huntsmen's head's from across the room. One of the ghosts playing Twister was using his head to reach a yellow circle. "No using Decapitation as an advantage!"

Harry turned back to the lead Huntsman, "I'm Harry Potter, and…um…I just wanted to tell you how…uh…scabby…scary! How scary Nick is and how he really deserves to be part of the chicken" Harry smiled, then quickly looked down in confusion at some writing on his hand, "…hunt! I meant hunt!"

The head ghost laughed raucously, "Ha! I bet he told you to say that!"

Harry quickly put his hand in his pocket. He had taken dictation of what Nick had told him to say on that hand. Unfortunately, Harry was sweating like a waterfall, and the message was totally blurred.

"Head Hockey, anyone?" shouted the ghost. "Oh wait," he slapped his ghostly head with a ghostly hand, "I forgot, this is Britain-"

"To the Queen!" Thousands of ghostly teacups and one head crashed to the ground. A pair of hands quickly grabbed the head.

"Sorry. It's not quite screwed on properly, y' know."

The head huntsman continued as if there had been no disruption, "-so let's play some Headless Cricket!"

An overexcited crowd of headless cricket players pushed Harry, Ron, and Hermione roughly out of the door.

They could just hear Nick as they staggered into the hall, "Oh well. Thank you for coming, I'm sure I'll-" His voice was cut off by a scream of _GOOOOOOOAL!_

* * *

"Whassamatter?" said Harry blearily, blinking to bring the swimming face of Oliver Wood into focus. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He blinked sleepily, trying to rid himself of a dream about two chickens in cricket jerseys tossing his head back and forth.

Oliver shrugged, "Yes, yes, I know, it's three thirty." His face suddenly turned sour, "And it would have been two thirty if Dumbledore hadn't said 'No no, Wood, let the team sleep a little. Lemon drop?'" Wood shuddered with either rage, or the memory of a particularly sour lemon drop offered by Dumbledore. "Anyway, let's get going. NO time to lose!"

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and the rest of the Quidditch team were dressed in their scarlet Quidditch robes and listlessly staring at Wood as he enthusiastically explained a few diagrams full of Xs, Os, and lots of little lines. "So, that's the new tactic. Any questions?"

George gave a loud snore, as sank to Angelina Johnson's shoulder in his sleep. Angelina gently tried to nudge him awake with a prod from her wand, but he snored on. Suddenly, one of his eyes opened and he winked at Harry as he rested even more weight on Angelina's shoulder, drooling steadily. She sighed. Harry smirked.

"Well," said Wood, "Let's get going!"

They had just walked out onto the Quidditch pitch when another team entered from the other end, dressed in emerald green.

"Slytherin? But I booked the field weeks ago!" cried Wood angrily.

The large, bucktoothed Slytherin team captain lead the group as they strolled up to Wood and the rest of the Gryffindor team. "Get off the field Wood, it's ours today."

Wood scowled back at him, "Not a chance. Why do you want it so badly anyway?"

The large boy snorted, "So we can train our new Seeker." He stepped aside to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy, wearing the green Slytherin robes and looking very pleased with himself. "His father also generously donated these Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones to the team. They're the very latest model, and I've heard that they outstripe the old Nimbus Two Thousands by a considerable amount. Not that we need it to beat you."

Draco smirked, "Hey look, here comes your little friends Potter."

Ron and Hermione were running onto the field. They arrived breathless and panting. "Seriously," said Ron, "did they really have to made the field so darn HUGE! Anyway, what's happening? And why is Malfoy here?"

Draco smiled nastily, "I'm the new Slytherin Seeker."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "Well at least everyone on the Gryffindor team got in on pure talent, whereas you had to buy your way on with some fancy brooms."

Draco glared at her, "Stay out of this, you little Mudblood!"

Both teams drew back from Draco and gasped.

"Oh no he DIDN'T!" said Katie Bell with attitude.

A mountainous Slytherin three times Draco's size burst into tears and ran away towards the castle, covering his face with his robes.

A longhaired skater kid on the Slytherin team shook his head at Draco, "Dude, what are you thinkin man? That's harsh!"

Hermione simply blinked at him, "Mudblood. Oh please, is that all you've got? I'm supposed to feel insulted when you say I've got mud in my blood? So what, I mean, that is SOO lame."

Draco stammered in shock, "But…but…you're not supposed to be this tough!"

Hermione snorted, "Oh, whatever. I don't even know what it means and it already sounds idiotic. I mean really, how is mud offending? Does mud offend YOU?"

Draco stared at her, "Well…I…I don't really kn-"

"You don't know. How can you not know the answer to such a simple question!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron, who has been pretty much ignored so far, suddenly looses his temper. "Well, she may not care, but I do! EAT SLUGS MALFOY!" Ron waved his wand at Malfoy, and nothing happened, except one small spider crawled out of the end. Ron dropped the wand in a panic and ran across the Quidditch pitch, screaming hysterically. "SPIDERS! SPIDERS!"

Harry raised his eyebrow at Ron, then crushed the spider underneath his shoe.

Ron stopped running, panting with his hands resting on his knees, "Oh, thanks mate. You have no idea how much I hate spiders. Anyway…where was I…hmmm. Oh yeah, EAT SLUGS MALFOY!" Ron's wand suddenly shot out a green light that wound away from Malfoy and back at Ron like a boomerang, hitting him full in the stomach. Nothing happened for a second, then Ron's face became greener as he barfed up a live slug. It dropped from his mouth, leaving a trail of slime hanging from his lower lip.

The large Slytherin, which had just gotten over the shock of the whole Mudblood incident, took one look at Ron and fainted straight away, landing with a thud like a small earthquake.

As Ron continued to throw up slugs, Harry and Hermione wordlessly each grabbed an arm and started to drag him across the grounds to Hagrid's hut. If anyone would know how to cure someone with a case of the slugs, it was Hagrid.

* * *

"Sorry, there's nothin I can do." Said Hagrid a few minutes later, passing out cups of tar-like hot cocoa. "He'll jus haveta get em all out o' his system. Poor little blighter. How'd it happen?"

"Well, Malfoy called called Hermione a…well actually I don't know what it means." Said Harry.

Hermione shrugged, "Me either. He called me…what was it? A Mudbrain, or a Mudblood or something."

Hagrid gasped, "He didn't call you a Mudblood!"

"Yeah, he did. I mean, so what? What's the big deal, it's not even very good material, although it's pretty witty for Malfoy. His usual insult is, 'Well…you're ugly.'" Hermione smiled, remembering Millicent Bulstrode burying her fist in Draco's face. She sighed; Good times…good times.

Ron pulled his head out of the bucket Hagrid had lent him to catch the slugs in, "It means dirty blood, you know, Muggle-born. He's so dead when I-" Ron suddenly paled and quickly ducked his head back into the bucket. The plops of slug-hitting-slug echoed through the room.

Hagrid didn't seem to notice, as his face still wore an expression of righteous anger, "Some wizards, like your old buddy Draco, are what is called 'Pure Blood', or have never married and had children with a muggle. Mudblood is one of the foulest things one wizard can say to another."

Ron raised his head again, "Speaking of foul, the bucket's overflowing." Slugs sloshed onto the floor, and Hagrid giant dog Fang was sniffing at particularly large slug.

"Ok, that's just disgusting." said Harry.

"So, wizards have their own set of curse words?" said Hermione, undeterred. "Then what else do they have their own of?"

Hagrid sigh, "Oh, lots o' things. Money, o' course, and time zones. There's Eastern Witching time, Central Witching time, and Western Witching Time. An' there's the grading scales grading scales. Can yer believe that wizard's are the only ones that give T grades? Besides, I jus don't understand those Muggle grading scales. Though I think I've got em nailed down now, I read a book about it!" Hagrid held up a book called Muggle Grading Scales: From A to G. "A's for Awful, B's for Bagel, C's for Crispy, D's for Delightful, F's for Foghorn, and G's for Gargle. Dun't know exactly why though."

Hagrid scratched his head, and Harry was very tempted to tell Hagrid how badly he had messed up the grading scale. But, by the time he had gathered up the nerve, Hagrid was talking again.

" -and rules of grammar. O' course I'm the only one in this here school that uses proper grammar! You'd think tha', this bein a school an' all, it'd be more enforced!"

Hermione blinked, "Right."

* * *

"Well Ron, if yer allrigh', then I've got sommat to show yer." Hagrid lumbered out of the hut, as Hermione, Harry, and Ron followed him outside toward the vegetable patch. Hagrid smiled and gestured proudly to five of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen.

Hermione's eyes widened, "Wow Hagrid, nice job with those pumpkins. That must have been a very well cast Engorgement Charm."

Hagrid blushed fiercely, "Uh, Engorgement Charm? I dun't know what yer talking about!" He quickly hid a fluffy pink umbrella behind his back.

Harry, feeling sorry for Hagrid, tried to draw attention away from Hagrid's unauthorized use of magic, "So, did you grow them for the Halloween feast?" While he was saying this, he secretly wondered why Hagrid had been expelled. All he had told Harry was that he had been expelled and wasn't allowed to use magic. But why? What are you hiding Hagrid…

Hagrid looked relieved for the change of subject, "Yes, I did. And I would have more if they didn't keep getting stolen!"

"Stolen?" asked Ron, "By who?"

Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, "Actually the correct term is 'Whom'."

Ron snorted, "Whom? Who says whom? Oh, I'm sorry, 'WHOM' says whom?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "All right, now you're just being stupid."

"Act'lly," said Hagrid, "The correct wizardin grammar term is 'o."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest.

"Anyway," said Harry glaring at the tense couple-to-be…and the clueless Hagrid, "who do you think is stealing them?"

Hagrid leaned forward and hissed in a conspiratal whisper, "I don't _think _I _know_! It's them fairy godmothers again! The forest's been absolutely plagued with 'em. Always flittin around, singin nonsense, and turning my pumpkins into carriages. Annoying, that's wha' it is! The animals are scared of em, afraid they're gonna get turned inta footmen, and doormen, and henchmen and such." At this point, Hagrid started to mumble to himself. "Stupid little…If I was allowed to do magic…give em a piece of my mind…show them a fing for two…what did she mean exactly by 'Your no prince charming'…stealin pumpkins…good sledgehammer'll take care of them…nosy little busybodies…chatty little…good fer nothin…" Hagrid was turning scarlet with rage and strangling Ron's bucket.

Suddenly, one of the pumpkins tore itself from its roots and sprouted golden handles, doors, and wheels.

"And there goes another one! This is getting ridiculous!" roared Hagrid.

A sour-faced old woman in a lightly glowing blue cloak waved a silver wand, and stuck her tongue out at Hagrid. The pumpkin, glowing orange, sped away into the sunset and the fairy godmother disappeared in a flash of pink glitter.

Ron wore a confused look on his face, "So, wait, there are fairy godmothers in the Forbidden For-"

Hagrid slapped his hand over Ron's mouth and looked around wildly, "Der spirits!"

Ron pried Hagrid's hand off of his mouth, "Er right. The spirits. Got it."

"DER SPIRITS!"

"Uh huh."

From the Forbidden Forest came the sound of an elderly voice singing what Harry could have sworn was 'Bippity Boppity Boo! Put it together any whadda you got? Bippity Boppity, Bippity Boppity, Bippity Boppity Boo!'

From his position in Ron's pocket, Scabbers squeaked in fear. They would never make a footman out of him, NEVER! He was, after all, a servant of the Dark L-I mean…squeak!

* * *

"Well, thanks fer stoppin by!" said Hagrid, waving.

Ron suddenly pointed at one of the pumpkins, his lip quivering, "Spi…spi..spi…SPIDERS!" screamed Ron, running away as fast as he could, his arms flailing.

"Wha?" said Hagrid, looking closer at the pumpkin, "Oh, scrawny little devil, isn't he? But he's still a cute little spoider, yes he is, yes he is!" Hagrid's voice started to rise in pitch as he tickled the spider under its chin. Hagrid chuckled, "Ah yes. Hey, what's the matter with Ron?

"SPIDERS!"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, he's just kind of weird like that."

"SPIDERS!"

"Well, see yer soon Harry. Goodbye Hermione, and say goodbye to Ron fer me!"

"SPIDERS! SPID-"

Harry grabbed Ron as he ran past. "Come on Ron, it's time to go."

"SPID-oh, I mean, sure. Sorry about that mate. I can't help it, when there's a spider around, I just go crazy." Ron shook his head in puzzlement.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Spiders?"

Ron's eyes grew huge. "Where!"

"No, I meant, you're afraid of spiders?"

Ron trembled.

Hermione smiled secretly. Oh Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship, you never let me down. Time for the fun to begin.

* * *

As Hagrid shuffled back into his hut wearing a bemused smile, a dry wind rustled the leaves of the vegetables in his garden. Standing alone in the middle of the plot was one lone red flower, waving in the wind like a bloody banner. "_Edmund…"_

* * *

Professor McGonagall glared at Harry and Ron. "So you thought you'd gotten away with that flying car incident? Ha! I was just recently informed, and have contemplated your punishments. Ron, you will be polishing trophies in the Trophy Room with Argus Filch." Ron started to protest, but was silenced by Professor McGonagall, "Harry, you will be serving detention with Professor Lockhart, helping his answer his fanmail."

"What!" cried Harry, "But I thought they outlawed cruel and unusual punishments in the modern world!"

Professor McGonagall ignored his protests, "Please report to your detention rooms immediately." She turned on her heel, and then she was gone.

* * *

"Ah, Harry, you should have been there when I was banishing that banshee, you could really take some pointers from me with your Seeker technique, I think that your left armed swipe is a little slow. And let's not even discuss your-" Lockhart babbled on and on.

Harry, head in hands, nodded weakly at appropriate times, and muttered "uh huh", "sure", and occasionally "you're a total idiot, you do know that right?" but Lockhart was too engrossed in his spiel about banshees to care. Harry was just about to drift off to sleep when he heard a strange, cold voice that sent shivers down his spine.

_Kill…kill…let me kill_

Harry, scared out of his wits, leaned closer, as it to hear the voice better.

_Put the left leg in…_

_You take the left leg out…_

Harry quivered in fear in his seat. What kind of horrible, dark potion was being created that included putting legs in and taking them out. Where they HUMAN legs! "I've got to get out of here!" thought Harry, blinded by panic. He heard the voice again, even louder this time.

_You put the left leg in…_

_And you shake it all about._

_You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around. That's what it's all about,_

_oh yeah! _

_You put your right leg in, you put your right leg out-_

Harry blinked in surprise. The hokey pokey? Should he ignore this voice, or should he do what it says? Although, at this point, some ridiculous polka music was playing, and the sinister voice was scatting like Ella Fitzgerald, this was not a voice you wanted to disobey. Something gave Harry the impression that he had better find out where it was coming from. He didn't know why, as this was pretty much the stupidest thing he could do at this point, but he didn't care. After all, he was A Hero!

So Harry tied on his red cape and followed the voice out of Lockhart's classroom. Lockhart himself was still blabbing on about banshees and didn't even notice Harry getting up.

_I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD…I smell muffins!_

Harry quickly gasped and withdrew the copy of How to Stop a Cornish Muffin Attack that Hermione had lent him. Darn it, it was muffin-scented! Harry quickly disposed of the muffin book and continued to follow the voice. It was much louder now.

_Let me rip you…let me tear you…let me recite the fifty states to you_ _in a coherent fashion!_

"Harry! What are you doing here!" said Hermione, almost running into Harry as she rounded a corner with Ron in tow.

"Shhhh!" said Harry, straining to hear the voice, "Don't you hear that voice?"

Ron looked puzzled, "What voice? I don't hear anything!"

The voice suddenly stopped, and Harry froze in his tracks. It wasn't the chill of the forgotten hallway he had found himself in, or the clamminess of the water puddle he was standing in that made him do this. It was what he saw, written on the wall. Hermione gripped his arm, and Ron stood with his mouth agape.

"W-what is it?"

"I don't know Ron, but it can't be good." Said Harry. The three friends stared at the wall, and wondered what this could mean…

_**

* * *

**_

_**Oddly**_


	11. Respect

Usually I update once a week, but I decided since todays my birthday (along with my twin's) I thought I would be nice! But everyone who reads has to be nice too; review and I'll forgive you for not getting me a present! heheh

That Loser

**Chapter Eleven: Respect**

There, on the stone wall in front of the trio, was a huge note proclaiming for the whole castle to see, dripping red paint-or maybe it was blood-it's letters glaring against the faint torch light.

Ginny suddenly, quietly, and eerily appeared by their sides; her eyes glazed over and her mouth hanging slightly open, big globs of red paint was dripping onto the ground off the gigantic stain of it down the front of her robes. No one really noticed.

"What could this mean?" Hermione whispered, confused and slightly scared. Her voice carried down the almost empty hallway, the echo rebounding over and over again.

But the message did not answer them, only shown there even brighter:

_**Yo! u fools, da Chamber of the Secrets tis open so ya betta RESPECT, word?**_

"I don't know Hermione," Harry whispered back just as dramatically, "I just don't know."

Then there was silence. Silence for the curiosity. Silence for the suspicion. Silence for the dread. Silence for the panic. Silence for the fear. Silence for the every growing terro-

"SPPPPIIIDDDDERRRSS!"

Ron jumped straight into the air, his arms flailing up like Mrs. Popeye. On the ground, next to the conveniently placed mirror, was a small trail of spiders crawling slowly away from the wall towards the window and then out into the grounds.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then suddenly gasped. There, hung up by its tail on a torch in the wall, right above the conveniently placed mirror, was Mrs. Norris, looking very still.

Ginny brushed off some cat hair from her sleeve and scratched a red cat-scratch on her cheek.

"Is that Mrs. Norris?" Harry stepped closer to peer at the cat. Hermione was in shock and Ron was shuddering.

"Is she-is she-dead?" Hermione stammered.

Harry's outstretched finger pushed against the tiny cat-chest, it was stiff. The push propelling it to swing back and forth.

"I don't kn-"

But he was interrupted, because at that very moment everyone in Hogwarts had decided to use the trio's very hallway as means to travel to their dorms, traveling back from the Halloween feast.

They were closed in on every side, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs coming from the left, and Slytherins and Gryffindors from the right. Then three (well-four, but Ginny's not important to the plot yet so she's temporarily invisible) lone second years stuck in the middle, at the scene of the crime.

The crowds thundered down on them, happily chatting to friends and laughing at corny jokes. But silence spread as they finally noticed the three students standing in front of a perplexing scene. Slowly the crowds came to an abrupt halt; whispers spreading back across them like wildfire.

A small boy in very tight Slytherin robes suddenly disrupted the stillness and pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Then openly pointed at Hermione.

"You'll be next Mudblood!"

The throngs of students finally burst, gasps and screams of outrage, calls of: "He _didn't._"

But before the overreacting could elevate any more, Draco held up a small hand, his head facing down and his eyes closed. The hallway darkened and a spot light shown out of the ceiling, circling around then landed on Draco. A beat was gathering.

"_Oooooh, What you want? Oh, baby I got it!"_

In a slow dramatic Broadway fashion, the other Slytherins slowly began strutting towards Draco, snapping their fingers and pushing the other kids out of their way.

"_Oooh, What you need! Oh, do you know I got it?"_ Draco sung on.

The Slytherins formed a big circle around the singer, their backs facing him, shoulder to shoulder.

"_Ohohoh, All I'm askin' Oh! Is for a little respect when you come home, (just a little bit)"_

The group of Slytherins suddenly started bopping up and down, swinging their hips. The other houses eyed each other warily.

"_Hey baby (just a little bit) when you get home! (just a little bit) mister! (just a little bit)"_

A diamond formation began and the Slytherins quickly twirled in place then leaped onto chairs (that appeared out of no where), spinning them around, then dipping them to the ground, jazz hands included.

Draco began strutting down the hallway, pushing small Hufflepuffs out of his way and grabbed Harry by the collar and yanked him towards his face.

"_I ain't gonna do you wrong, while you're gone  
Ain't gonna do you wrong (ooh) 'cause I don't wanna (ooh)  
All I'm askin' (ooh)  
Is for a little respect when you come home (just a little bit)  
Baby (just a little bit) when you get home (just a little bit)  
Yeah (just a little bit)"_

With a dramatic sigh, Draco pushed Harry away, so that Harry lost his balance and flew backwards on his butt.

The Ravenclaws decided to make the best of it and began singing the backup chorus, ripping off their robes, as the came off dramatically in one big piece, leaving them in shiny blue-metallic dresses. Their hair suddenly resembling Hermione's.

"_I'm about to give you all of my money  
And all I'm askin' in return, honey  
Is to give me my profits  
When you get home (just a, just a, just a, just a)  
Yeah baby (just a, just a, just a, just a)  
When you get home (just a little bit)  
Yeah (just a little bit)"_

Draco then paused, put down his microphone and began break dancing. It was time for the instrument break. Hufflepuffs slid across the floor on their knees blowing on saxophones. Gryffindors head banging on their guitars.

The hall was vibrating as the Ravenclaws continued to hum and the Slytherins continued their back up dancing. The music was loud and growing louder, Screams and cheers of excitement echoing from everyone. One pant leg was ripped off Draco by a rabid fangirl who ran away to sell it on eBay.

But then there was a squeak in the far left corner, immediately the activities halted. It sounded like some one was trying to play some sort of instrument.

"All right!" Draco demanded, hands on hips. "Who's making that awful noise?"

The crowds parted, and Draco marched to the source. A figure blinked down at him innocently.

Draco sneered. "Was it you Professor? Was it you who was playing that?"

Dumbledore blushed and gripped his clarinet tighter.

"We don't have room for…that. Why don't you just leave, and end your humiliation now?" Draco hissed.

Dumbledore nodded meekly. Then lowered his head in disgrace and silently shuffled away. He stopped once to look back hopeful, only meeting the gaze of 200 students with their hands on their hips, glaring back at him. Slowly he turned around again and then was gone.

"Ok!" Draco snapped his fingers, let's pick it up!" The beat gathered faster.

"_Oooh, your kisses (ooh)  
Sweeter than honey (ooh)"_

Draco paused slightly, pushed on a do-rag and looped on some bling-bling, then began to rap.

"_And guess what? (oh!)  
So is my money (oh!)"_

Draco held up his bling-bling and threw some gang signs.

"_All I want you to do (oh!) for me!"_

Draco paused again, deciding he didn't like rap that much and reverted back to his normal 70s jive.

"_Is give it to me when you get home (re, re, re ,re)  
Yeah baby (re, re, re ,re)  
Whip it to me (respect, just a little bit)  
When you get home, now (just a little bit)"_

The tension was building; everyone could tell that an important moment was coming up. Ten Hufflepuff cheerleaders appeared beside Draco, ruffling their pom-poms together.

"_R-E-S-P-E-C-T  
Find out what it means to me  
R-E-S-P-E-C-T  
Take care, TCB"_

Each cheerlead help up a sign with a letter on it, the other three formed a tiny pyramid. The Gryffindors suddenly jammed louder.

"_Ooooooh (sock it to me, sock it to me,  
sock it to me, sock it to me)  
A little respect! (sock it to me, sock it to me,  
sock it to me, sock it to me)  
Whoa, babe (just a little bit)  
A little respect! (just a little bit)  
I get tired (just a little bit)  
Keep on tryin' (just a little bit)  
You're runnin' out of foolin' (just a little bit)  
And I ain't lyin' (just a little bit)"_

Draco threw his head back and his arms out, singing louder, everything was playing louder and faster.

"_(re, re, re, re) 'spect  
When you come home (re, re, re ,re)"_

The trio was sitting in a far corner, trying not to make eye-contact and wondering if they were going to get in trouble for this.

"_Or you might walk in (respect, just a little bit)  
And find out I'm gone (just a little bit)  
I got to have (just a little bit)  
A little respect (just a little bit)"_

Draco shot one hand up in the air, tilted back his head to the sky, as everyone else also ended with an impressive pose.

The lights flickered on and quickly the students scrambled to cart away the dry-ice machine, guitars and flashy gold stilettos. The Hufflepuffs were just sweeping up the multicolored glitter when Filch appeared huffing and wheezing around the corner.

"What's all this then?" He limped forward towards Harry, who was suddenly pushed forward as the crowds snaked back along the walls again.

"I-I…" Harry stuttered, not sure what to say, or how to explain any of this.

Filch's eyes were roaming the walls, sneering. "Defacing school property! Oh Pooter, I've got you no-" He suddenly stopped, his face draining of all color, he sucked on his breath quickly. His hands started to shake. He had finally spotted Mrs. Norris, and the conveniently placed mirror.

"I'll kill you. I'LL KILL YOU!" Filch leaped towards Harry, claw-like hands outstretched, when he was suddenly hit in the face with a clarinet.

Filch stumbled backwards as Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Lockhart, and Professor Snape appeared around the corner.

"_Argus_." Dumbledore commanded, "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, come with me."

Dumbledore started leading them away when Lockhart suddenly darted out in front of them, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Hermione blushed and pulled out a compact mirror, then started teasing her hair.

"Oh, do use my office, Headmaster, it is nearer, go on, go on."

"Why thank you Gilderoy." Dumbledore nodded.

The silent crowds parted as the small group went past, Dumbledore in the lead, followed by Lockhart, Harry, Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, Sprout, Snape carrying Mrs. Norris, and Filch right behind him.

They entered Lockhart's office just as quietly as they left the scene of the crime. Hermione looked like she was going to have a seizure, glancing over her shoulders quickly; she stole a quill from Lockhart's desk.

Snape walked forward, laid the cat on the surface of the desk and stepped back, Dumbledore began to examine her. Muttering spells under his breath and poking the cat in different spots now and then.

"Ahh…if only I was there!" Lockhart spoke up, not noticing a hot-iron he forgot to remove from his hair. "I know just the charm that would have saved her!"

Everyone was quiet except for Filch's sobs, as Dumbledore continued his examination. Harry wondered if this was the right time to put on his red cape. Hermione stole another quill, and Ron was looking thoughtful as he tapped his feet on the ground, the smell of peanut butter drifting across the room.

Dumbledore finally stood up straight. "She's not dead."

Filch gasped. "Not dead? But she's all stiff and frozen..."

"She's been Petrified." Dumbledore continued. "How, I'm not sure..."

"Oh yes! I thought as much!" Lockhart spoke up.

"It was him!" Filch shrieked, quickly standing up, pointing at Harry. "Pooter! It was Pooter!"

Harry was astonished to find himself on his feet too. "It was not! And my name is _Potter_!"

"Yes it was you! Yes! You did it! Because he knows-I'm a-I'm a-I'm a Squib!"

"I never touched the cat! And I don't even know what a Squib is!" Which as the truth, he had no idea what was going on now.

"Might I speak Headmaster?" Snape interrupted, stepping out of the shadows. "Perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Harry's head snapped over to look at Snape, dare he believe this…?

"But that brings about other questions," Snape sneered. "Like, why was he in the upstairs corridors at all…"

"I had detention!" Harry argued.

"Oh yes! That's right; Harry was serving detention with me!" Lockhart finally made himself useful.

"But why not join the Great Hall for dinner afterwards?" Snape questioned them again.

"Because-because-" Harry could feel his heart beating faster, even he knew it wasn't a good idea to tell them that he was hearing voices.

"I was tired, and I met Ron and Hermione on my way to bed."

"Without supper?" said Snape.

"We weren't hungry!" Ron finally spoke up.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter isn't being entirely truthful. Maybe he should be punished, kicked off the Quidditch team until he can remember the whole story?"

"Oh really!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "The cat wasn't hit on the head with a broomstick! I see no reason for that!"

But Dumbledore was looking at Harry, perhaps trying to see the truth, or maybe he lost a contact, we may never know.

"Innocent until proven guilty." The Headmaster said firmly.

"We'll be able to cure her," Dumbledore continued. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they are fully grown, we'll have a potion made to restore Mrs. Norris."

"But that was going to be for my love poti-I mean, why, yes. Of course Dumbledore." Sprout nodded.

Dumbledore then turned towards the three students in the office. "You may go now."

And they left, as quickly as they could, before they could get in any more trouble.

When they were back in the Gryffindor Common Room, only then did Harry tell them about the voices.

"Should I have told them you think?" Harry questioned them.

"No!" said Ron quickly. "I mean, mate, this is weird."

"But you do believe me right?"

Ron hesitated. "Of course."

Harry sighed. "Anyways…what on earth is a Squib?"

Ron laughed. "Well, it's not really funny, but because it's Filch-A Squib is someone born into a wizarding family who doesn't have any magical powers, like the opposite of a Muggle-born wizard."

Harry laughed too. "So that's it! That's why he hates students so much, he's bitter."

Hermione hadn't joined in on their bashing of Filch; she was sitting still, deep in thought. Finally she spoke up. "Let's go to bed, I have some research to do in the morning."

Both boys groaned, but they grudgingly went, not admitting they were tired too.

* * *

The next day, Gryffindor second years had History of Magic for the first class of the day. Ron and Harry arrived on time and took a seat in the back of the classroom. Harry was waiting for Hermione to show up, seeing as she had taken off right after breakfast, mumbling something about research.

Ten minutes later a red-in-the-face Hermione dashed into the class and hurriedly sat down, she had arrived just in time.

Ron leaned over and whispered to her. "Where were you Hermione? You were almost late for class."

Hermione held up a hand, trying to catch her breath, then whispered back to him. "You know that all of the copies of Hogwarts, A History are taken out? And I left mine at home!"

This time Harry whispered to her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because! Everyone wants to read up about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What is it?" Harry questioned quickly.

"That's just it! I can't remember, and I can't find the story anywhere-"

Right then the bell rang, and Hermione settled back down in her seat, making it clear to the two of them that she would not talk any more about it during class.

History of Magic was as boring as ever, their teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost; in fact, the only ghost teacher in Hogwarts. But that didn't make him any more interesting. He read notes everyday in a small flat monotone of a voice.

But then something very unusual happened, Hermione Granger put her hand up in the middle of a lecture.

Professor Binns, so taken back, actually answered her.

"Yes, Miss--?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

The whole class immediately perked up. The Professor blinked.

"I deal with facts Miss Grut. And facts only, not myths and legends."

And he continued to read, but stopped once again, seeing that Hermione's hand was fluttering in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"But don't all legends begin with a fact; aren't they all based on facts?"

"Y-ess…I suppose one could argue that, but the legend in which you speak is a ludicrous tale, which I for one-"

The Professor paused again, aware that the whole classroom was now hanging his every word. He was thrown by such an unusual event. Harry was sure that this had never happened in his class before.

"Oh…very well then. You all know that Hogwarts was formed by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age, over a thousand years ago. The Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

He paused, blinked, then continued.

"For a few years the founders worked in harmony together, gathering young students and teaching them magic. But soon disagreements began to spring up, and a rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wanted to be, ah-more selective about who was admitted into the school. Then a serious argument between Gryffindor and Slytherin caused Slytherin to leave the school."

Binns paused again, blinked.

"From here, it is after all, just myth. The story goes that Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other three founders knew nothing about. Slytherin then, as the story goes on, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none could be able to open it until his one true heir arrived at the school. To unleash the horror within and purge the school of those unworthy to study magic."

There was silence after Professor Binns finished. Not the usual sleepy silence but a nervous tension filled one, willing the Professor to continue.

Hermione's hand was back in the air again. "Sir, what do you mean by the 'horror within'?"

"It is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control."

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"But, as I said before, the Chamber of Secrets does not exist-"

"-But sir," said Seamus Finnigian, "If the Chamber can only be opened by the heir, then no one else would be able to find it, wouldn't they?"

"Do you really believe that Hogwarts hasn't been search multiple times?"

"But, Professor," Parvati piped up. "You probably have to use dark magic."

"That will do!" Professor Binns cut in sharply. "Now let's kindly get back to history, which is solid fact."

* * *

The next class was Herbology. When the class arrived in Greenhouse Ten, they were met once again with a distraught and sobbing teacher.

"Oh, Professor!" cried Hannah, "What's wrong?"

"I'll never be able to go out with Flickwick! We can't make the love potion anymore! We have to use it on that cat!" The Professor erupted into sobs again.

Hermione stood up, tall and proud, marched up to her teacher and slapped her across the face. Sprout gasped, but stopped crying. "Pull yourself together!" Hermione commanded. "We'll just have to do it the old fashion way."

Professor Sprout looked like she was warming up to the idea. "Yes?"

Hermione smirked and pulled out a tube of lipstick. "With seduction…and peanut butter."

And it was settled, the rest of the class time was used to making plans, and arranging meetings for the two Professors. No one really noticing that Hermione was consulting Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship.

* * *

After dinner, Harry immediately left the table and ran towards the Quidditch pitch, they had a game today versus Slytherin. Ron and Hermione waved good-luck to him as he disappeared behind the doors of the Great Hall.

The Gryffindor Quidditch Team dressed in their scarlet robes and sat down, waiting for Wood's pre-game pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," He began, "but we have better people! We've trained more, practiced more, tried harder, so let's go out there and make them rue the day they let that slimy Malfoy on their team!"

He then turned to Harry.

"It's all down to you Harry; show them that a Seeker has to have more than a rich father to win a Quidditch. Win, or die trying, because if you lose I'll make sure you die-" Wood paused. "Jus-just win, ok? We need to win, we have to win!"

Fred slapped him on the back, "So no pressure, eh?"

* * *

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "There…two…one…" Then with a roar from the stands that sped the teams' brooms up into the air, the Quidditch game had started. Harry flying higher than them all, trying to get to the Snitch first.

"All right up there Scarhead?" Malfoy had appeared beside Harry, yelling at him.

Harry was just about to reply when all of a sudden a Bludger came zooming towards his face, forcing Harry to dive out of the way.

One of the Weasley twins came zooming after it, knocking it away from Harry, giving him a nod.

And Harry was just about to go back to looking for the Snitch when the Bludger came at him again. This time Harry had to slip halfway off his broom to escape its path. And the other Weasley twin tried knocking it away from Harry, but it wouldn't stop following him.

"Someone's tampered with the Bludger!" Fred called out to Harry. And it was true; the Bludger was pulled to him almost like he was a magnet. Fred and George were now on either side of him, like some sort of guard. In the distance Harry could hear Slytherin score a goal; the other Gryffindors needed the Weasley's help too.

"Fred, George, leave the Bludger to me, it'll be easier for me to catch the Snitch, and the Chasers need help."

"Are you sure Harry?" George questioned.

"Yeah-yeah, get going!"

Harry swiftly tied on his red cape, he was alone to defend himself from the rogue Bludger, forced to do stupid twirls, dives, and rolls.

"Training for the ballet Potter?" Malfoy mocked in his too-tight Slytherin Quidditch uniform.

That's when he saw it, hovering in mid-air, right beside Malfoy's head, the Golden Snitch. But he stood still too long, the Bludger sped towards him, missed, but made Harry jerk his right arm out of the way, scraping against the broom handle, receiving a splinter.

"NOOO!" Harry howling in pain as the sky darkened and it suddenly began raining.

Barely able to stay conscious, Harry numbly dived right for Malfoy's face, his left hand grasping the Snitch. The extreme pain was too much, and Harry felt his muscles seize up and he fell off his broom, falling, falling, three feet onto the ground. Where he lay there, and then fainted.

Harry awoke, still on the Quidditch field, but surrounding by the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Ron, Hermione, and rabid fan girls, crying as they muttered about how brave Harry was.

Hermione had a checklist in her hand.

"Wh-what's that?" Harry whispered, still in a lot of pain.

"Oh, this?" Hermione pointed to the clip book in her hand. "It's a check list, to see how many times you faint through out your Hogwarts career, but don't worry Harry, this is only the third time, you're doing quite well in fact."

"That was bloody brilliant Harry!" Ron complemented Harry. "You won us the game!" The rest of the Quidditch team cheered Harry too. But then they were disrupted.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" Professor Lockhart commanded, as he reached Harry. "Ah yes, Potter, I'll be able to fix this easily!" He pointed at Harry's arm.

Harry's eyes widened, and he suddenly pushed himself up from the ground. "Oh no, oh no Professor, I'm fine, really-"

"Nonsense! I'll fix this in a jiffy!"

"No-don't-"

But it was too late, Lockhart twirled his wand around pointed it at Harry. There was an odd sensation in his left arm, Harry dare not look.

"Oops!" Lockhart laughed, "Wrong arm! Let's try that again!"

"NO-!"

But this time Harry felt an odd sensation in his right leg.

Lockhart laughed even harder. "My mistake, for the arm now-"

But Harry wouldn't let that happen, he had began one-arm army crawling away from Professor Lockhart. And Ron and Hermione, picking up on Harry's discomfort on being healed by Lockhart, both grabbed him by the middle and carried him off to the Hospital Wing. His left arm and right leg flapping uselessly, as they had no bones in them.

* * *

"You should have came to me right away!" Madam Pomfrey raged. "Removing a splinter is easy! But regrowing bones-you're in for a hard night Potter." With that she shoved a drink down Harry's throat and stomped away.

"Stupid Lockhart." Ron growled, as he helped Harry into bed.

"Anyone can make a mistake!"

"Oh come on, Hermione, he has no bones!"

"But it doesn't hurt him anymore does it?"

"It doesn't have him feel anything anymore!"

"ENOUGH!" Harry yelled. "Look, you guys, it's ok, I'm not dead, my cape is still intact, just, leave me be!"

Ron and Hermione nodded, ashamed for yelling, they quietly left Harry, so he could get a good nights sleep and be whole in the morning. The only problem was the tingling sensation in his arm and leg.

* * *

The little tingling sensation turned into a burning sensation pretty fast. It was two in the morning and still Harry couldn't sleep. So that's why he screamed when he felt a pair of scissors near his head. The scissors were quickly retracted.

"Harry Potter is awake! And Dobby only wanted one small lock of hair.." Harry knew that voice from somewhere...

"Dobby is so pleased! But so sad also, Harry Potter came to school, even after he missed the train…"

"Wait-how do you know I missed the train…it was you! You! You! You were the one who blocked me from getting on the Hogwarts Express! And I bet you're the one who tampered with the Bludger! Why do you want to kill me?"

"Not kill you sir! Never kill you!" Said Dobby shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than to remain here, sir! Better home than here now that the Chamber of Secrets is to be opened once again…" Dobby froze, realized what he said and started thumping himself with the scissors.

"So there is a Chamber of Secrets? And it has been opened before? Tell me Dobby! Tell me!"

"No, no! It is too dangerous-Harry Potter must-" The house-elf paused, Harry could hear footsteps outside the door. "Dobby must go!" There was a loud crack and Dobby was gone. Just then the door was thrown open; Harry quickly turned over and pretended to be asleep.

Madam Pomfrey came running to the noise. "What's happened Albus?" she questioned the group that has just walked in. She was looking at a figure on the bed.

"Another attack," Dumbledore whispered. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a roasted pig beside him," Professor McGonagall spoke up, "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

Upon hearing his name, Harry turned over slowly to look at the figure on the bed. He could see who it was clearly in the moonlight; Colin Creevey, the mousey little boy. His eyes wide and his hands stuck up in front of him, holding a camera.

"Petrified?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes, but maybe-maybe he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" McGonagall suggested.

Dumbledore didn't answer, only opened the back of the camera, steam hissed out of it. "Melted." Said Dumbledore simply.

"What does this mean Albus?" the nurse questioned urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that I lost a bet-Oh! and _the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again!_"

There was a gasp from Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall stared in shock at the head master. "Surely who…?"

"Not who," Dumbledore responded. "But how?"

And he was right, thought Harry. Now how was anyone going to get those Harry Potter unlimited trading cards he had ordered from Colin?

_**

* * *

**_

_**Siriusly**_


	12. The Hair of Slytherin

Oddly sings to herself:

I love you, you love me, we're a happy family

With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you,

Won't you say you love me- record player scratches to a halt

Oh, uh hello there! Um…I was just franticly stuffs various Barney memorabilia into closet. Just…ok, this is awkward. This never leaves room, understand? Good. So, thanks for sticking with us and enjoy the chapter! Mad props to those of you who've reviewed, and to the new readers, feel free (as free as the wind blows, as free as the grass grows…Ooooh oooh ooooh…ehem…sorry) to review. Peace & Love!

NOTE TO PARTICULARLY ANALYTICAL READERS: Some events in this chapter are not in the right order, I admit it, but it was necessary to get the timeline I wanted for this part of the book. So, if it bothers you…well, I don't know, just ignore it.

That Loser

**Chapter 12: The Hair of Slytherin**

"Harry, are you sure?" The concern on Hermione's face was apparent, "A house elf is trying to kill you?"

Harry had just gotten out of the hospital wing, and had told Hermione and Ron everything that had happened last night. Hermione had led them to the deserted third floor Girls' bathroom where they were now talking in hushed tones.

Ron leaned him head against the basin of a porcelain sink. "I wish I had a freaky little elf that stalked and attacked me! At least it would pay attention to me!" Ron crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip in a pathetic pout.

"Hmmmm? What was that Ron? Sorry, I didn't catch it." said Harry, turning away from his conversation with Hermione.

"I wish people would pay attention to me for a change!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You keep talking, but all I hear is blah blah blah."

Ron's face turned red, "Blah, Blah! Blah blah blahblah…" Ron grasped his throat, "Blah? BLAH! BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Hermione and Harry both ignored Ron, who was now rolling around on the floor, screaming BLAH and making gagging noises. Harry continued his conversation with Hermione, "Yeah, he did. And that's not all, there's been another attack. I saw Colin Creevey being taken in last night."

Hermione put her head in her hands, "This is getting out of control! I don't know who's behind this, but it must be someone really evil, Colin is just a little first year!"

Ron opened his mouth, "Blah, blah blah, blah blah blah Blah blah Blah, Blah." He coughed, " I mean…oh, whew…if I had to place my bet on who the Heir of Slytherin was, I'd say Malfoy."

Harry snapped his fingers, his eyes bright, "Hey, yeah! Malfoy did say," Harry cleared his throat and did a very bad Draco Malfoy impression, "'You'll be next Moldboards!'"

Ron rolled his eyes, "That would be _Mudbloods_ Harry."

Harry waved a hand, "Whatever. Anyway, it would all make sense. He was roaming the halls suspiciously during the time of the attack, too. It all fits!"

Hermione shifted on the slightly damp cement floor uncomfortably, "Um, actually Harry, that was you."

Harry looked shocked, "Really? But surely he's the one that said he was hearing voices, he's definitely insane!"

"Nope, that's you again, Harry." said Ron.

Harry looked frantic now, "But he's got a history full of Dark Lords, and curses, and…and…AND HE'S GOT AN ABRAHAM LINCOLN SCAR FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"

"Uh, no…that would be you, Harry." Hermione admitted, a strange look on her face.

A sudden look of enlightenment dawned on Harry's face, "Oh yeah."

"Anyways," said Hermione, "I think Ron might be right about Draco being the Heir of Slytherin. I mean, he wasn't hanging around the scene of the crime, or showing signs of insanity or anything like you were, Harry, but he did dance _way _to well for any normal person. I mean, did you see those moves!" said Hermione excitedly.

Harry and Ron blinked at her.

She started to sweat, "I mean…uh, right! It must be Malfoy."

Harry punched the air, "Right! So…what are we going to do about it?"

Ron slumped back down into the sink, "Yeah." He took a bite of something in his hand.

Hermione squinted, "Ron, what's that?"

Ron looked up guiltily, "Cheese."

Hermione stared at him, "And why are you eating cheese?"

Ron glared at her, his mouth bulging with lumps of chewed cheese, "Hey, I have a right to eat cheese, it's National Wizarding Cheese Festival day!"

Harry sighed, "Why doesn't anyone ever tell me about these things?"

The bathroom was silent for a moment, except for the quiet dripping of sewage and a soft moan.

"What was that?" said Ron.

"It's coming from that stall!" said Hermione, pointing to one of the identical wooden stalls doors, whitened with age, feathered with peeling green paint, and stained with the writing of every generation since the invention of the Sharpie marker. (And, quite interestingly, some much before. If you looked close enough, you could see _Shakespeare doest loveth Genevieve _in ink in the right hand corner, and chiseled into the wood at the bottom, a lovely cave painting of a horse…or a cow. It really is impossible to tell, since the cavemen's drawing technique seemed to consist mostly of stick figures, with only the occasional label of 'Ug' to identify the organism in question.)

The moaning continued, and suddenly changed into, "Oooooh…why did I eat so much stupid cheese? Why!"

The three friends backed away, and Ron sighed with relief, "Oh good, it's only a constipated person. I thought it was going to be something really scary like a- _GHOST!_"

A transparent figure had suddenly stuck its head through the last stall's door.

Hermione sighed, "Oh it's only Myrtle." She walked up to the ghost and gave a shaky smile, "Hello Myrtle, how are you?"

The ghost came out all the way, and started sobbing, fogging up her ghostly glasses, "What do you care! I know what they all say about me: Who cares about ugly, moping, Moaning Myrtle!"

Harry still stood in shock, "Whoah."

Ron stared at Myrtle, his head cocked to one side, "Is it just me, or does she look a little like…?"

"-like Harry in girl form?" interjected Hermione, "Yeah, I can see the resemblance."

Harry crossed his arms, muttering, "Can not." Pushing up glasses identical to the ones Myrtle was wearing.

Ron shrugged, "Face it Harry, same gross knobby knees, same messy black hair, same dorky glasses, same gree-wait…blue? You have blue eyes?"

"Oh, sorry." Harry squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, "Better?"

"Yep. Same green eyes, same tendency toward depression, same-"

Moaning Myrtle gave a scream and flung herself through a stall door into the toilet.

Ron blinked, "Was it something I said?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "No Ron, not at all."

"Anyways," said Hermione, "it's probably a good thing that she's gone, because we need to talk about a course of action for exposing Malfoy as the Heir of Slytherin."

"Yeah," said Harry, trying to push back the questions floating to the surface. Did Ron really think he was that much of a loser?

"But what can we do?" said Ron, eating more cheese.

Hermione sat down, her head resting in her hands. Suddenly the dusty light bulb on the bathroom's crusty ceiling blinked on.

"I've got it!" she said, "A Polyjuice Potion! Why didn't we think of it before!"

Ron raised a hand, "Because we've never heard of it."

Hermione sighed, "It's a potion that allows the drinker to take on the form of another-"

Ron took a breath.

"-_meaning_" continued Hermione

Ron exhaled like a deflated balloon.

"Meaning that we can drink it and look like some of the Slytherins that Malfoy trusts. Maybe we can get him to tell us if he's the Heir of Slytherin."

"Excellent," said Harry, the leader, "so what do we need, and how much time will it take?"

"Well," said Hermione, the intelligent one, "most of the ingredients are pretty common, and I happen to have most of them with me at this very moment, but it also calls for Boomslang Skin, which may be more difficult to find."

"Huh?" said Ron, the village idiot.

Hermione patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, then gasped when she realized what she was doing and quickly pulled out a pink book. Harry peered over her shoulder, to look at the title. Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship.

"Look, Hermione, can you make the potion?" said Harry.

Hermione looked up from her book, "Oh yes, but it takes months to brew."

Ron snorted in frustration, "Months! But Malfoy could kill all the Muggleborns in the school by then!"

Hermione sighed, "I'll go as fast as I can."

"And we'll help, of course," said Harry, "right Ron?"

Ron nodded, "Right."

* * *

"WOHOOOOOOOOOO!"

Hermione sighed in frustration as Harry and Ron flew around the small bathroom on broomsticks. So much for helping.

"Five points, yeah!" A wad of toilet paper clumsily labeled 'Quaffle' fell into a bubbling pot of what looked like sewer mud.

"Guys, could you please be more careful, I'm entering the last stages of the brewing, and the procedure is very delicate!" shouted Hermione over her shoulder, while dropping into the mixture what looked like moldy pieces of beef jerky.

"Oh yeah," pouted Ron, "well why should I?"

"Do you want to be half Ron and half lobster for the rest of your life?" said Hermione, clearly irritated. She mixed in a few globs of something blue and syrupy.

Ron looked down, "Sorry."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Harry.

Hermione grunted, "Now you ask. Where were you when I had to pluck the tail feather of a Hippogriff?"

"Playing Quidditch." said Ron, "Honestly Hermione, you've got to get your priorities straight."

"Right." said Hermione, "Well, now that you mention it, I do have something for you to do. You've got to go get a piece of the person you want to change into."

"What!" said Ron.

"You know, a hair, a toenail, whatever. I would suggest Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zambini," commented Hermione over her shoulder as Harry and Ron went out the door. The potion had sent up a mushroom cloud of purple smoke. "And hurry up!"

* * *

An hour later, Harry and Ron were placing the hairs they had gathered in a glass

of what still looked like sewer mud. "Hey, I thought you said this would take months to make?"

Hermione brushed a strand of sweat-slicked hair from her forehead, "It usually does, and I'll admit that I rushed it a little. " She gasped, "Did I put in the right amount of mutant zucchini leaves!"

"Hermione, I'm sure it's fine," said Harry, eyeing the potion nervously. He placed the hair he had pulled out of Pansy's head while she was sleeping in History of Magic in his glass of muck. "Well, cheers."

Ron put in Blaise's hair, and Hermione put in one of Millicent Bulstrode's hairs, which she had collected earlier. "Cheers," they echoed.

From the minute the brew slid down his throat, Harry felt his stomach swim. "I think I'm going to be sick." He said between tightly clenched lips, holding his aching stomach.

Hermione dropped her glass, which shattered on the cement floor of the bathroom, "Me too." She ran into a stall and slammed the door. Ron followed suit and ran into a wall, then, dazed and disoriented, ran into an open stall. Harry slumped over an open sink, and fixed his gaze on the streaky rust stains pooled around the drain. Harry suddenly felt himself getting taller, his hair getting longer, and his whole body changing shape like clay being squeezed into a mold. After a few minutes the sensation stopped. Harry gathered up his courage and looked in the mirror. And screamed like a girl. The fact was he had been transformed by the potion into a girl, so that was all right, then. Harry turned to get a side view. Wow, so this was what it was like to be a girl. One of the stall doors jiggled, and Harry turned around to see Blaise Zambini coming out of a stall. "Ron?"

"Whoa…, Harry?" said Blaise/Ron.

"Yeah." Harry/Pansy's eyes lit up and he/she said in a strangely high voice, "Hey…, we can finally solve the mystery of what gender Blaise is! I mean, Blaise has never told us! Ron, what are you?"

"Uhh…I don't know"

"You don't know?"

"Yeah."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"How can you not know?"

"I just don't!"

Harry looked at Ron/Blaise suspiciously.

"What?" said Ron self-consciously.

"Nothing, nothing."

A scream came from Hermione's stall. Harry snapped to attention, startled, "Hermione, are you okay?"

"Um, I don't think I'm coming. Just go on without me." Hermione's voice sounded muffled.

"Oh, all right, if you're sure." Said Ron, shrugging, "Let's go."

As Harry and Ron walked down the hall toward the Slytherin's dormitories, bits and pieces of their conversation reverberated up into the peaked ceiling of the Hogwarts castle, breaking the steady rhythm of the two boys…the boy and girls'…the two girls'…well you know what I mean…footsteps.

"Seriously, what are you?"

"I told you, I don't know!"

"Just check really quick."

"Ew, no, that's disgusting."

"I've got to know!"

"Why?"

"Because Seamus told me to ask Blaise out for him, and that would be _really _awkward if..."

"Oh."

* * *

Twenty minutes and seven wrong turns later, Harry and Ron arrived at the Slytherin dormitories. They waited for the portrait to open, and quickly slid inside. Sitting on one of the overstuffed green velvet couches was Draco, reclining with his feet up on the ebony coffee table. "Hello Pansy…Blaise."

"Um…hi Draco. What's… what's going on?" said Harry, wondering how Pansy would normally greet Draco.

Draco looked at Harry in confusion, "What's gotten into you Pansy?" He smiled slyly, "Don't I get a kiss?"

"NO!" said Harry.

Everyone in the room turned around and stared at him. Harry gave a fluttery laugh and coughed nervously. "I mean…uh…no."

Draco shrugged, "Whatever."

Ron was already sweating profusely. "He's…I mean…she's fine, aren't you Harry? I mean Pansy!"

Draco instantly frowned at the mention of Harry's name, "Potter! I wish he was a mudblood, so the Heir of Slytherin could get him next."

Harry turned to look at Ron, jackpot!

Harry scratched his chin in what he hoped was a nonchalant way, "And, uh, do you know who the Heir of Slytherin is?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "I've already told you Pansy, no. If I did know, do you think I would still be here, instead of helping him?" Draco sighed, "I wish I could be the Heir of Slytherin, it's my life's dream…"

Suddenly the lights dimmed and Draco was sitting alone on a tall stool with a spotlight on him, holding a microphone. Draco lowered his head and some background music reminiscent of the Bonnie Tyler classic filtered into the common room. Four other Slytherins stood behind Draco, hands behind back. Ron looked around frantically for the source of the music.

Draco raised his head and brought the mike to his mouth and sang, while sweating through his black silk shirt.

**_Where is all the evil now, and where has it all gone?_**

_**Where's the summons to nasty deeds?**_

_**Where's the sum of all I'm taught?**_

_**Somewhere out there is the one being what I want to be**_

_**Killing mudbloods, bringing terror,**_

_**This should have been me!**_

The beat quickened and Draco got up off of his stool and grabbed his mike off the stand. A disco ball turned on and a few Slytherins grabbed microphones and began singing background '_ooooohs_'. Draco strutted down the length of the Slytherin common room during the electric bass interlude, and twirled on his heel to face Harry and Ron at the start of the dramatic chorus.

**_I need to be the Heir-ooooohhh!_**

_**I'm holding out for the chance**_

_**To be the villain tonight!**_

_**Well I'll have to be strong and I'll have to be fast**_

_**And I'll have to be ready to fight**_

_**I need to be the Heir-oooooohhh!**_

_**I'm holding out for the chance**_

_**To be the villain tonight!**_

_**Well I'll have to be stronger **_

_**And faster than POTTER**_

The background singers: (_And trust me that won't be hard!_)

Harry creased Pansy's face into a scowl.

Draco continued singing, building to the final crescendo.

**_I'll have to be larger than life_**

_**I need to be the Heir-oooooooooooooooooooohhhh!**_

Draco suddenly burst into a fit of frantic disco dancing, while the electric guitars wailed in the background. Crabbe pounded his meaty fists into a piano, and Goyle was staring as if in deep concentration at a saxophone. He finally shrugged and snapped it in half. In the excitement, Ron had jumped behind the drum set and had been tapping along with the beat. As Harry turned to Ron, he saw that Blaise's normally black hair had turned the signature color of Weasley red. Harry gasped and felt Pansy's high, girlish voice catch in his throat, and change to Harry's own. He put a hand to his forehead and traced the profile of Abraham Lincoln. The potion was wearing off! Harry quickly grabbed a protesting Ron by the elbow and ran out of the room in the confusion of Draco's dancing, weaving around two bass players and a strange old man playing…was that a clarinet?

* * *

"Hey, what'd you do that for?" complained Ron, as Harry led him back to the Girls' bathroom. "I was really getting into the beat!" Ron twirled a drumstick in between his fingers, then dropped it.

"Uh huh," grunted Harry, walking through the swinging door into the bathroom. "Hermione? Hermione, are you still in here?"

"Um, yes, but I think there was something wrong with my potion," said the muffled voice of Hermione from the same stall she had been in an hour earlier.

Harry and Ron crept cautiously to the stall and pushed open the door. Hermione stood with her back to them. "Do you remember," she said, "when I said that the potion was only for human transformations?"

Harry blinked, "Uh…no."

Ron nodded, "Well, there was the Quidditch and everything…"

Hermione whirled around to face them, her eyes flaming, "Just shut up and look at my face!"

Ron's brow furrowed, "Um…did you get new makeup or something?"

"I'VE BEEN HALF TURNED INTO A CAT YOU MORON!" screamed Hermione.

Ron twisted his mouth into a frown, "I still don't see it."

Hermione, with murder in her eyes, reached behind her and held up a tail that twitched on its own.

Ron's eyes lit up, "Oh…yeah! I see it now!"

Harry stood with his mouth open, "What happened?"

Hermione sighed, "I don't know, but I think the hair I got off of Millicent's robes must have been a cat hair."

"No, really?" Ron smirked.

Harry suddenly smiled, "So…this means that you did something wrong."

Hermione looked at him, "Uh…yeah. So?"

Harry elbowed Ron, as a huge smile spread across his face. "Ready?" said Harry to Ron. "Three, two, one: YOU DID SOMETHING WRONG! YOU DID SOMETHING WROOOOOOOOONG!" They danced in a circle around Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I never said I was perfect."

Ron stifled a giggle, "But, trust me, you've never been less perfect than now!"

Hermione gritted her teeth, but couldn't help it as her tail twitched from side to side, sending Harry and Ron into a new fit of laughter.

"All right, that's it!"

* * *

Harry and Ron walked to class the next day, covered in cat scratches. "I'm glad Madame Pomfrey was able to cure Hermione," said Ron, who was plastered with Band-Aids.

"Me too." Said Hermione, coming up behind them. "Hey, so what's been happening while I was in the hospital wing?"

Harry shrugged, "Not much, the only new news is Dueling Club."

Ron shrugged, "You want to join? It could be fun."

"And useful," interjected Hermione, "especially with the Heir of Slytherin running around."

Harry nodded in agreement, "So its set then, we'll join the Dueling Club."

* * *

"Remind me why we decided to do Dueling Club again?" said Harry, head in hands, at the Dueling Club meeting a few hours later.

In the front of the classroom, Gilderoy Lockhart was explaining to a group of bored students his duel with the Banshee of Biscore.

Hermione pulled out a newspaper and flipped to the business section. Ron snorted, "No way we're reading about some stupid business stuff, let's reading something interesting!"

Hermione sighed, "Fine, as long as it's not The Funnies."

Ron wilted, "Darn it! Wait, how about the horoscopes?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Horoscopes? Come on now, you can't possibly believe…"

"Sure!" Ron's eyes widened, "They are all too real…" A mystic breeze ruffled his hair.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Lavender, turn off the hairdryer."

Lavender scowled and shut it off.

Harry continued, undeterred, "You seriously think that horoscopes are real?"

Ron nodded, "Oh yes! Look, here's yours." Ron scanned a page covered with zodiac signs and vague symbols. "Aha! You're a Leo." Ron gasped, "See, Gryffindor…lion…leo…its true!"

Hermione shook her head, "Ron, I'm in Gryffindor and I'm a Pisces."

Ron stuttered raising a finger "Well…well I…and he…but…Well that's not everything! Listen to this: You always love to play the hero, although you do not want the attention. Avoid evil Dark Lords, snakes, and whatever you do, do NOT except a lemon drop from a certain eccentric authority figure in the next two days." Ron threw down the paper, "Now could you get more specific than that!"

Hermione's mouth was open in surprise, "Let me see that!" She scanned the narrow columns, looking for Ron's horoscope, "Let's see how accurate this is. You are an Aquarius. You feel as if you are living in a friends' shadow, don't let his fame and your lack of an Abraham Lincoln scar get you down! Beware your greatest fear." Hermione frowned, "Its rubbish!"

Ron stared at the paper. "I wonder what it meant by my greatest fear? Spiders, probably. But what does that have to do with-"

"Shhhh. I think something interesting is going to happen!" said Hermione pointing to the temporary stage.

Professor Lockhart was pointing to Professor Snape, who must have come in while they were occupied with more important things, like reading the newspaper, drawing a white out mustache on the sleeping person next to you or, in the case of a few exceptionally bored Hufflepuffs, counting the number of strange things coming from the first years' Charms room.

"If I could have your attention please…" said Lockhart above the noise.

"Yes! Flock of purple parakeets, twenty points!" shouted Susan Bones, a second year Hufflepuff.

"Oh no you don't, I so call that one!"

"You called the last flock, _and _the giant man-eating banana. This one is so mine!"

"Silence." Said Professor Snape. The room became eerily quiet.

"I would like to get started for today by showing you a demonstration of the technique I have been talking about, with the help of my assistant, Professor Snape. Professor, if you would?" Lockhart and Snape walked to opposite sides of the hall and raised their wands.

Harry was in a conflicted, who did he want to see win? Oh well, 30 chance Lockhart would blow them both up.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ shouted Snape. A coil of red light erupted from his wand and hit Lockhart full in the chest, throwing him backwards into the wall.

Lockhart pulled himself up, massaging his back. "Ah yes, very good. But, it was _pretty _obvious what you were going to do. If I had wanted to stop you, I could have, of course."

"Oh, of course," said Snape sarcastically, grimacing.

Lockhart, oblivious as always, continued on. "Now, how about a pair of student volunteers? Um…lets see, who'll work well together…Draco and Harry, front and center!"

Harry's eyes widened. No way. Not here, not now, not ever.

"Mister Potter, is there a problem?" sneered Snape.

"No, no problem, _Professor_." Harry sneered back (as respectfully as possible since he was, after all, a teacher). Taking a deep breath, Harry climbed on the stage to meet Malfoy.

"Take your stances." Said Lockhart.

Snape whispered something into Draco's ear. Draco smiled evilly and turned to meet Harry with sickening arrogance. "Scared Pooter?"

"You…wait, Pooter? What is it with you people; it's not as if it's a particularly hard name!"

Draco shrugged, "Either way, you do realize I'm about to slaughter you in front of all your little admirers. Care to give up now?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "You wish."

"Raise wands please." Said Lockhart.

Harry and Draco whirled to face each other and raised their wands.

"Now on the count of three. One…two…thr-"

"_Elastica Reprimandino!" _Screamed Draco, pointing his wand at Harry. Harry felt something like a rubber band hit his ear.

"Ow!" said Harry, rubbing his stinging ear, "_Folicalimo Indigo!"_ A beam of purple light flew from Harry's wand and hit Draco where Harry knew it would do the most damage. His hair. Harry handed Draco a mirror.

Draco screamed like a little girl. "My hair, my beautiful, beautiful hair! Nooooo!" Draco turned eyes full of fire toward Harry, "Now you die! FOR MY HAAAAAAAAAAIIRR! _Locomotor Acne!_" Draco pointed his wand from the pimply face of a cowering Hufflepuff to Harry.

Harry didn't even stop to look at what Draco had done. "_Lincoln Transfouma!"_

Draco suddenly turned into Abraham Lincoln. Draco, who quickly looked at Snape, suddenly twisted the honest face of Abraham Lincoln into a twisted smile. "_Serpent Manifesto!"_ A giant snake curled from the end of Draco's wand and slithered directly toward Harry.

Snape casually pulled out his wand, "Don't worry Potter, I'll get rid of it for you."

Lockhart stepped in front of Snape, "Allow me, Professor! _Serpentrio Molfacto Disapparatite!"_ The spell shot the snake high into the air, then gravity brought it crashing back down, more angry than ever.

Harry saw that the snake was going to strike Justin Flinch-Fletchety, a slightly annoying Hufflefpuff from Herbology. "Stop!" he shouted at the snake, "Don't touch him!"

The snake sulked, "Yessssss masssster. I never get to do anything fun in the sssssslightessssst anymore! I don't think thissss relationsssship is working out."

Harry gasped, "No please, don't go! We can work this out! Don't leave me. _Think of the children! _I-Wait…what?"

Harry looked up to find everyone staring at him. "Uh.."

Justin Flinch-Fletchety stared at him with a look of horror, "What exactly do you think you're playing at? Get away from me!" Justin ran away down the corridor.

Harry stared after Justin, confused, "Justin? Wait! _Think of the children!_" Harry blinked, "Why does this keep happening to me!" He ran off in tears.

Hermione and Ron awkwardly followed him.

Snape dispatched the snake with a lazy flick of his wand, all the while staring after Harry, a look of surprise on his diabolical face.

* * *

"Um, Harry? You okay?" said Hermione, tapping Harry on the shoulder.

Harry gave a tear-filled sniffle, "Yes...I suppose so. Actually, I'm not exactly sure what happened there. Why was everyone staring?"

"Well, you did tell Justin to think of the children, which was way creepy, but mostly they were staring because you started talking to the snake. Why didn't you tell us you were a Parlseymouth?" said Ron, earnestly.

"That would be Parselmouth, Ron." Said Hermione

Harry shrugged, "Is that what it's called? I don't know, I just assumed that it was a normal wizard thing."

"No Harry, it's very rare, and not a particularly good thing. Only really dark wizards can talk to snakes." Said Hermione in a conspirital whisper.

Harry slapped his forehead, "Oh great, now everyone's going to think I'm Salazar Slytherin's great great grandson or something!"

Ron shrugged, "It was like forever ago, mate."

Hermione nodded solemnly, "For all we know…you could be."

* * *

Little did Hermione know that this comment would cause the start of a severe identity crisis and years in counseling for Harry to smooth over the repercussions of that fateful afternoon. At the end of a day full of people whispering and staring at him when they thought he wasn't watching, Harry roamed the corridors in a surly mood, hands stuck in pockets, looking as if in deep concentration at the ground. It wasn't as if he had asked for this, Harry thought, if he could have chosen his fate, he would have stopped this whole thing from happening. He would have let someone else be the hero that stopped Voldemort, so he would still have a family and a home. Or he would have at least made himself less of a loser.

It was at this solemn moment when Harry tripped over something and fell flat on his face. Harry, looking around to make sure no one had seen him, peered down to see what he had tripped over. And screamed at the top of his lungs. **The Harry Alarm** went off, complete with flashing red lights and sirens. Dumbledore and the rest of the Professors came running in slow motion down the hall. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout had their wands raised in a dramatic fashion; Professor Snape was taking full advantage of the electric fan and showing off his flowing black hair. Dumbledore was holding a rubber duck for some reason.

Dumbledore jumped toward Harry in slow motion, arms extended as if to ward off some invisible foe. "Haaaarry, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…oh wait." The professors skidded back into real time. Professor McGonagall and Sprout put down their wands. Snape looked annoyed that his photo shoot was over. Dumbledore, who was still hanging in midair, suddenly fell to the ground.

"Harry!" said Dumbledore, jumping up and brushing dirt off of his robes. "Would you join me in my office in five minutes please? Professor McGonagall, would you bring him please?"

Harry looked at him in confusion. "Well, if you're going to your office, why don't I just go with y-"

"Drama, Harry! It's all about the drama!" Dumbledore turned his back to walk away, then whirled around and pointed at Professor McGonagall, "Five minutes!" With a flick of his wrist, he disapparated in a poof of red smoke.

She rolled her yes, "I heard you the first time. Drama Queen." She took a hold of Harry's arm and led him down the corridor, "Well, come on Potter, we'll indulge the Professor's little…oddities."

Harry stepped over the Petrified body of Justin Flinch-Fletchety, and walked around the still form of Nearly Headless Nick, looking back into the shadowy corridors beyond.

* * *

"Well, here we are." Said McGonagall, stopping in front of a statue of an eagle. She cleared her throat, "Sherbet Lemon."

Harry coughed. "Um…is something supposed to happen?"

She rolled her eyes, "Albus, let us in."

"Say the magic words!" said the muffled voice of Professor Dumbledore from behind the statue.

"Albus, this is childish! Just open the door!"

"Say it."

"Albus, you open this door young man, or so help me, I will-"

"Say it."

Professor McGonagall sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Albus Dumbledore is the smartest and bestest wizard in the whole entire world. There, are you happy now?"

"Say the rest of it."

Her eyes flamed with rage, "Albus, this is lunacy. I am not going to-"

"Say it."

"But there is a _student _present, Albus, a student! If he hears this I'll loose all authority with him."

Harry looked curiously at her, "What is it?"

Professor McGonagall stared back at him, and said with a totally straight face. "I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Harry looked away. You didn't argue with a face like that.

"Say it. Please? For me?"

Professor McGonagall gritted her teeth, "Fine." She took a deep breath,

"The hills are alive With the sound of music 

**With songs they have sung for a thousand years.**

**The hills fill my heart **

**With the sound of music**

**My heart wants to sing every song**

**It hears (every song that it hears)**

From somewhere on the other side of the eagle statue, the sound of a very bad accompanist clarinet squeaked its way through a short musical interlude.

My heart wants to beat like the wings of the bird that flies 

**From the lake to the trees (to the trees)**

**My heart wants to sigh like a kite that flies**

'**Or a church on a breeze**

**To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls**

**Over stones on its way (on its-"**

Professor threw away the acoustic guitar and shooed away the woodland creatures that had gathered.

Dumbledore opened a hidden stone door behind the eagle statue, "Don't stop, Minerva, it's so beautiful." He sighed, "It fills this old heart with the sound of-"

"Forget it Albus! I-" she swatted a flock of little yellow birds chirping in harmony, "I'm only here to deliver Harry. Here he is, so I'm leaving now." She practically ran the other way down the hall out of sight.

Harry blinked, still in shock. "So, um, what was it you wanted to see me about Professor?"

Dumbledore tore his eyes away from the acoustic guitar. "Hmmm? Oh yes, I wanted to talk to you about the incident this afternoon."

Harry nodded, "Right. The one that happen five minutes ago."

"Yes." Dumbledore directed Harry into his office, "Please, come in."

Dumbledore led Harry into a large room full of interesting whirring sliver instruments, large bookcases full of dusty volumes, and a large oak desk in the center. Dumbledore sat down at the desk and put on a pair of half-moon glasses. He gestured to a chair in front of his desk. Harry obediently sat and stared at the Professor.

"So, Harry, is there anything you wanted to tell me?" Dumbledore looked into Harry's eyes. Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"Well, yeah. I've been having emotional problems lately and…and" Harry felt his eyes tearing up, "There's just a lot of baggage, okay?"

"Uh huh." Said Dumbledore rummaging around in his desk, "Continue."

"And I've been hearing voices lately, and I'm just kind of concerned that-"

"Aha!" said Dumbledore, pulling a propeller hat from his desk drawer, and putting in on his head. The propeller on the hat spun lazily in the slight breeze.

"Um…Professor?" Harry leaned forward and raised his eyebrows, "Were you listening to anything I just said?"

"Oh yes Harry, you see, I hear the voices too!" He popped a lemon drop in his mouth. His left eye twitched.

"Uh." Harry blinked.

"Oh, and Harry, I have something very important to tell you…" He the spun the propeller and giggled, "WHEEEEEEEEE!"

Harry slowly got up, and then made a break for the nearest door.

At his desk, Dumbledore popped another lemon drop, and his left eye twitched.

Twitched.

Twitched.

WHEEEEEEEEEEE!

* * *

**_Oddly_**


	13. Leprechauns, Giants, and Hobbits, Oh my!

In this chapter you may find some-er-_characters_ from another famous book series (even though I myself don't like that book series and have only seen the movies once) So another disclaimer out to the author, mad prompts to him, and if you guys can't identify the characters, well then-laugh and act like it's funny.

That Loser

**Chapter 13: Leprechauns, Giants, and Hobbits, Oh my!**

Harry woke up that day and knew it was going to be a bad day. How did he know this you wonder? Was it the fact that his alarm clock woke him up two hours early? Or that Scabbers had chewed a hole through his sock? Or that halfway down to the Great Hall he remembered that he had forgotten to do his homework the night before? Or the fact that they didn't serve pancakes for breakfast? No, it would have to be because everyone's robes had appeared to turn pink overnight.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Professor Lockhart burst through the doors to the Great Hall, throwing confetti into the air and dazzling the fan girls in his gold and pink hearted robes.

Once Lockhart had been seated, beaming at the students, Professor Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the teacher's table. "Attention students, Professor Lockhart has most willingly thrown us quite an event. So we will celebrate this holiday in style. So don't be surprised if you meet one of these young fellows." He indicated to the little men with big hairy feet, decked out to look like cupid. "They're just here to deliver some, uh, letters around." The Professor continued, "That is all, and may everyone have a lovely Valentine's Day." He promptly sat down.

And it all seemed to be true; everyone was treating this holiday with style, some with and without (student's robes) their own consent. Why even Dumbledore had a red heart pin pinned to…_his propeller hat?_

Harry glared into his porridge. Ron had yet to arrive and Hermione looked all a flutter. She had a big book out: Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship, and had just circled a big-block typed passage: **THE BIG DAY.**

After ten minutes or so a very disgruntled Ron walked into the Great Hall and made his way towards Harry and Hermione.

Discreetly, Hermione quickly stuck her foot out. And after Ron had picked himself up from the ground, tried to heal his bloody nose, and popped his elbow back into place, he relayed his reason as to why he had been late to breakfast.

"I was searching for regular robes," Ron pointed down at his pink ones, he sounded like he had a cold, with those pieces of napkin stuck up his nostrils.

"Today just bites." Harry grumbled into his pumpkin juice.

"You're telling me." Ron replied sadly. And the smell of peanut butter wafted across the hall.

* * *

The day didn't start totally sucking until Harry set out for Charms. He was already five minutes late and had packed way too may books in his backpack. So half bent over and running as fast as he could with twenty pounds on his back, Harry was desperately trying to get to class.

"AIIEEEE!" a voice yodeled out behind Harry. And Harry, having-at least more brains than Ron- decided it would be in his best interest to keep running. Then came the shower of arrows.

One zipped nearby his head, another nicked the corner or his backpack, ripping it open at the seams, and one more pinning the end of his bright pink robes to the floor.

Terrified, Harry tried to scoop his books into his arms and rip free from the arrow pinning him to the ground. There were too many people around, and he knew only one thing that would have a pink-heart arrow.

The Cupid Hobbits.

And then he saw it, standing to the almighty height of three and a half feet, in a diaper, carrying a harp and a letter.

The crowds around Harry stopped and gathered; wondering what was happening or really, and most likely, wanting to watch someone else's misery.

The cupid hobbit fingered a chord.

"Nooo…" Harry moaned, burying his head in his hands.

"'Oh your eyes are as green as the color's of Slytherin,

Your socks as rank and damp as the Chamber of Secrets,

You're the boy we conquered the Dark Lord-_and need to do it again in the form of a diary-_

Otherwise, you're so smart and divine,

I'd wish you'd be mine.

Love Ginny-_who is under mind control!_'"

The cupid-clad Hobbit finished.

Harry sat straight up, that had to be the most important thing he learned today-no not the love note, that wasn't anything-what he learned was that _Hobbits were awful singers!_

* * *

Harry, alas, made it to class five minutes late, but Professor Flitwick seemed slightly preoccupied; so Harry made the most of the situation and sat down beside Hermione and Ron without being counted tardy.

Huddled around Professor Flitwick's desk was all five of the Cupid Hobbits, they were talking franticly to the Professor, and the professor seemed opposed to what was going on.

"Frodo has informed us that another of our brothers is trapped here, but fear no more, we have an escape plan, come with us brother." Hobbit #1 told the professor.

"What? I told you- I am not a Hobbit! And I'm not going with you!"

"Please sir, fear no more, for we can make it out of here safely, we have the Ring of Power!" Frodo proudly held up a silver ring with a big black stone embedded in it, the stone had a crack down the middle.

Flitwick seemed flabbergasted. "What? The Ring of-what? That's not a ring of power! That's Slytherin's ring! Were did you get that! We had it locked away until the sixth book-put it back!"

"Fellow Hobbit," Hobbit #4 patted the Professor on the shoulder. "it's ok to be afraid, but trust us!"

"I'm not a Hobbit!"

Hobbit #4 staged whispered to the rest of the group. "The Evil Eye has gotten to him."

"Evil E-? No, we just call her Professor Trelawney-"

"No use reasoning with him." The hairy-feet creatures decided. And they quickly took hold of the Professor and hoisted him on their shoulders, scurrying out of the classroom.

"Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi HOOOOO…"

The door banged shut and a silence filled the room. Then someone drew a rallying cry.

"They took our teacher! After them!"

In a roar of stampeding and screaming, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second years jumped up from their seats and ripped open the door, following the path of the Hobbits. They chased them down to the ground level and out unto the grounds, they were heading for the Forbidden Forest. But the students were faster, they had longer legs, they were ganging…

When a figure dressed in all white with a long beard and a big wooden staff appeared in front of them. The mob stopped, confused.

The figure had its hands raised in peace. "Halt!" It cried. "I am Gandalf the White and I want to inform you-"

"What do you think you're doing Dumbledore? Go back inside and practice your clarinet."

Dumbledore deflated, groaned and slumped away, slapping on his propeller hat and mumbling about: "…never being included…"

Silence.

"Onward!"

"HAZAAA!"

The mob raised their pitchforks and torches, about to chase once again after the Hobbits when out pranced Professor Sprout in a tight yellow dress with bright red lipstick, and alas, tried bits of leaves stuck in her hair.

"Darlings…" she smiled, whipping her flowery scarf about her. "Leave this to me."

The mob stared confused at the Hufflepuff Head of House. Hermione only one encouraging her, giving her a thumbs up and pointing excitedly to: Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship.

The Hobbits too seemed confused about the giant walking yellow-thing. The Professor nimbly pulled out a glass bottle of perfume and sprayed it on the Hobbits. One-by-one they passed out leaving only Professor Flitwick staring up at her.

"Oh Professor, I'm so happy you're alright."

Professor Flitwick seemed to be blushing. "Yes, quite alright, say, Pomoma, if you're not busy this Friday…would you like to go out and get a drink at the Three Broomsticks?"

And this time Sprout blushed, giggling. "Oh Filius…"

* * *

Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, suddenly finding himself with a big break. Sprout and Flitwick skipped class and now the second year Gryffindors were looking at an enjoyable afternoon with no homework.

He walked over towards a couch, dropping his pitchfork on a study table on his way over, and sank into the cushions. Yawning and rapidly blinking, Harry finally looked over and noticed Ginny Weasley –covered in chicken feathers.

"Hey Ginny," Harry flipped his hand in her direction. "Cool shirt, very stylish, modern."

Ginny had turned red; she was shaking and stuttering, attempting to tell him something.

"Are you ok Ginny?" Harry asked, mostly because no one else was around and there was nothing else for him to do. She looked like she was going to have a seizure.

"I-I-I-I-I- H-have to t-t-ell you some-th-thing." She swallowed hard, shaking even more. "I-I-'m t-t-th-th-e H-Heir of Sly-sly-slther-" She suddenly blanched. "PERCY'S SNOGGING PENELOPE-THE RAVENCLAW PREFECT!" She jumped up and quickly ran out of the room high-speed. Something dropped from her lap.

Harry stared as her figure disappeared from the room, and then looked over again at where she was sitting. There was something there. A book, or diary maybe, sitting right there, were she was sitting-right there-in the exact same spot…

Harry picked it up, and he wondered who it belonged to.

* * *

Harry was alone in the Gryffindor Common Rooms, Ron and Hermione were off somewhere snogging or something, Dumbledore was practicing his clarinet, Hedwig was-dead. And Scabbers was in the corner braiding an escape rope.

It was just Harry and the mysterious book. Harry sat at the study table staring at the cover, it was someone else's personal property and they wouldn't like other people prying into their thin-Harry was flipping through the pages rapidly. It looked like a diary, but nothing was written on the pages. The only thing Harry could find was the name Tom Riddle and a date that dated over fifty years ago. First Harry laughed at the name, then that a nancy boy would keep a diary; then looking over his shoulders quickly, he flipped to somewhere in the middle of the book and pulled his quill near him.

Dipping it in the ink, he placed the quill on the page and began to write. He was a loser, and couldn't tell Ron and Hermione things like his favorite mop styles and fragrance. Finally he had someone he could really talk to.

Harry decided that writing the first line in the book as though the book was a person was a good idea. It was common really; didn't everyone address their books in conversation?

**Hi! I'm Harry Pooter!**

He scribbled out the last word and tried again.

**Hi! I'm Harry Potter!**

There, perfect. He gazed back at his handiwork and was not at all surprised to see the book talking back to him. Not suspicious in the lest.

_Hello, Harry Potter, My name is Tom Riddle. Did you know that I know about the Chamber of Secrets?_

**Wow.** Harry wrote, not even surprised that he had luckily found a book that knew about the Chamber of Secrets the exact year that it was opened and brought up again, or that he never asked anything about the Chamber of Secrets. It just knew, his diar-journal- was so smart. **What do you know about it?**

_The Chamber was opened in my time, it attacked a couple mudblo- I uh, mean-students and finally killed one in the end. I caught the person who opened the Chamber, was given a nice shiny medal and told to shut my mouth about it. The death of the girl was covered up with another story. But I knew it would be opened again. For you see, the person in charge was not imprisoned. _

**Well then- riddle me this! Who was it last time?**

_I can show you if you like, I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him…_

That sounded splendid! Inside a mysterious book with a sissy named Riddle. What luck Harry had!

**OK**

The diary started glowing faintly red, vibrating and shaking on the table. The pages flipping frantically by themselves, as if a breeze was rustling them. Harry leaned forward, trying to see the memory. How would he see it? Would it be like a TV screen? He was so close now that his nose touched the paper…and Harry was knocked off his feet, off of his chair, sinking into the depths of the pages. In a flash of white he was gone.

Harry landed stumbling in-what it looked like-Hogwarts-right outside the Headmaster's office. Everything looked familiar… but vaguely different. And the biggest thing that Harry found strange was everything was in black-and-white. Hmmm…odd.

So Harry, one not to waste a good opportunity, whipped on his trench coat and Sherlock Homes hat, pulling out a magnifying glass from his pocket and stooped over, searching for clues.

A couple of 'AH-HAH!'s later, a figure caught Harry's eye. It was a tall, lean teenager with dark black hair and a green and silver tie on; he too looked like he was sneaking around, looking for something. He was getting closer and closer, and Harry saw a Perfect badge pinned to his chest reflect off the torchlight.

'Aww, crap.' Thought Harry. It was way after dark and Harry wasn't supposed to be here, he would get major house points taken off if he was found by the Slytherin Prefect. He had to escape. So Harry did the only thing a regular twelve-year-old boy would do in that situation; he bodily flung himself across the hallway into an open-door classroom. Landing with a more than soft thud and "Ommpf!", Harry quickly picked himself up and checked for damage. Only a dislocated shoulder; he was getting better at this.

Harry, relieved to not have been found-out by the Prefect, turned around to get a good look at the room, only finding another person in there with him.

He quickly backed away towards the door he had flung himself into, maybe the person hadn't seen him, he did have his back to him, maybe Harry could escape again, he turned around and…the Perfect was standing in the doorway. Harry flung himself sideways into the shadows, but he knew it wasn't fast enough, that the Slytherin Perfect _must_ have seen him…

But no one was moving towards him. The Prefect must have seen him before he saw that other guy, yet, the Slytherin was only staring at the other guy. Hang on a second…Harry had a thought.

Boldly he-limped up and walked right in front of the Perfect, waving his hands in his face and even throwing his magnifying glass at him, but no reaction. Ah-hah! No one could see him! So this was how a memory worked, Harry grinned stupidly, a job well done.

Then the Perfect spoke.

"Evening," the boy said sharply.

The huge boy stood up and quickly turned around. "Whaaerractenosh?"

The Perfect seemed confused, but Harry knew he had heard that blabbering before somewhere…

"I'm sorry, what did you say?…I can't quite understand you-"

"What are yer doin' down here, Tom!"

Ahhh, so the Perfect was Tom Riddle, but who was the one opening the Chamber of Secrets?

Riddle stepped closer to the boy, Harry saw now, and huge box slightly cracked by the other boy's feet.

"It's all over." Riddle told him, "I'm going to have to turn you in; they're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"Whderyallwa?"

"Sorry? Again?"

"What yeh-!"

"The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow; the least Hogwarts can do is slaughter the thing that killed their daughter and put away the person behind it."

"It never killed on one!"

"Come on, by tomorrow everyone will know that the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets is-"

Harry waited on bated breath, this was it, the moment he found out who was behind it all-

When somebody in Gryffindor robes burst into the room and started screaming wildly.

"SPPPIDDDERRSSSS!"

Riddle growled, and faced the frantic boy. "_CRUIC_-! Ah, I mean-Matthew Weasley, what do you think you're doing out of bead at this time of night!"

The Weasley blushed, muttering something about 'tap-dancing…' and quickly left the room.

Riddle turned back to the boy. "Now, everyone will know the person behind all of this is Rubeus Hagrid!"

Harry jumped back in disbelief, the room began spinning and the scene whirled. Harry could felling himself being pulled back-into fake lighting effects and a crappy vortex tunnel, his voice was suddenly echoing.

"HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR-"

Harry paused and the vortex stopped, hands on knees Harry drew some quick deep breaths. The vortex kick started up again.

"-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDDD!"

And then Harry was dumped back out, thrown onto the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room. But before he had time to regain his breath, the black crept in and Harry passed out.

* * *

When Harry woke up Hermione was standing over him with her clip book, checking something off and muttering "…passed out…four times…"

Harry sat up quickly. "Hagrid!" he blurted out. "It was Hagrid! Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets! That's why he was expelled all those years ago!"

"What?" Hermione shook her head. "What are you talking about Harry?"

So Harry told them everything he saw, about Riddle, and Hagrid and the mysterious box that must have held the monster of the Chamber of Secrets. But Hermione was still skeptical.

"Well there's only one thing to do then, isn't there?" Hermione stood up from her seat on the Gryffindor Common Room's couch. "Ask Hagrid himself."

So it was decided, later that night when the curfew was intact, Hermione, Ron, and Harry would sneak down to Hagrid's house and figure out the mystery of the Chamber once and for all.

* * *

Underneath the Invisibility Cloak crept the famous trio of Gryffindor. They were slowly making their way to the Entrance Hall and out to the grounds.

"Ouch, Ron!" Hermione yelped. "That's my foot!"

_Let me kill…Santa…_

_Let me tear…the Easter Bunny…I am the fairest one of them all!_

_Let me sing the ABC's…backwards _

Harry stopped suddenly. "It's that voice!" he whispered to his two friends. "It's that voice again!"

_Let me teach you to square dance…_

_Gel your hair!_

"Oh! Harry!" Hermione smacked herself on the forehead. "I think I just realized…why didn't I see it before, but I HAVE to research this!"

Ron frowned, "At twelve at night-?"

But Hermione didn't answer; she quickly ducked out from underneath the Invisibility Cloak and scampered off towards the library.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shook their heads. Girls, eh?

_And I want you to find…Find me Edmund…Edmund…Revenge…REVENGE…_

* * *

Harry and Ron were halfway to Hagrid's Hut when something strange happened. A tall figure was walking towards them, and it appeared that what ever it was- could see them underneath the Cloak.

So they stopped and waited for it to speak, they had never seen one quite like it before; long white hair, tall pointed ears, dressed in all white, with an bow an arrows.

"Ewjijrke Toles!" The figure called out.

"What!"

"Um, yeah, that's twinkle toes in Elvish."

"Can we help you Madam?" Harry asked.

The figure glared, "I'm a boy, and um, yeah, I'm looking for some wee little hobbits. I don't suppose you've seen any around…?"

"Yeah, they were heading out to the forest."

"Why thank you." And with that the figure strolled off again.

Harry and Ron walked in silence the rest of the way there.

* * *

It was around this time that Hermione had a break through, jumped up to go tell Harry and was petrified. Yeah, that kinda sucked.

* * *

_**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**_

"Hagrid!" Harry called out, "Its us! We need to speak to you!"

The door opened and Hagrid poked his head out, "What yer'all doin here?" He hissed.

Harry and Ron pushed their way into the Hut, and then Hagrid shut the door, walked over to the stove and began fiddling with a tea cup.

Harry quickly got to the point. "Hagrid, I need to ask you something important-"

There was another knock at the door.

"Who's that?" Ron hissed.

"I've-I've been expectin'…q-quick, hide!"

It was Dumbledore, he looked dead serious. He entered with another man, a very odd looking man, the second odd looking man Harry and Ron had seen that day.

He had graying hair, an anxious face, pinstriped suit, pointed purple boots and a lime green bowler hat with a three-leaf clover attached.

"That's Cornelius Fudge!" Ron gasped. "My dad's boss, the Minster of Magic!"

The Minster was shuffling his feet around, looking darkly into the corners of the hut.

"You sure there are no leprechauns about?" he addressed the Headmaster, "they're evil you know, nasty little blighters…"

"Cornelius, if you mind…to business?"

"Yes, bad business Hagrid, attacks all over the school, Ministry's got to act and-are _sure_ there's none-?"

"None Cornelius, Hagrid here doesn't hide leprechauns about his house."

"Yes, well." Fudge mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, "can't be too careful…, But yes, you see Headmaster, Hagrid's record is against him, and I've got to take him."

"And for the record, I have full confidence in Hagrid." Dumbledore stated coldly to Fudge, his propeller hat only spinning slightly in the breeze.

"Take me! Take me where? Not Azkaban- not Azkaban prison-!"

There was another knock at the door.

"LEPRECHAUNS!" Fudge screamed and dived behind a chair. Lucius Malfoy stepped into the Hut.

"Malfoy? Get gotta my house!" Hagrid roared.

Malfoy sneered. "Yes, terrible business, won't be here long, _makes my hair frizz just standing here_- Anyways, Dumbledore, dreadful thing, the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension, you'll find all twelve signatures on it, they feel you're losing your touch, why with these attacks going on everywhere…" Lucius trailed off.

Even the Minster seemed appalled.

"With Dumbledore gone they'll be killin' next!" Hagrid shouted.

"Dear Hagrid, I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that, they really wouldn't like it at all."

"Calm, Hagrid." Dumbledore reprimanded.

"I, of course will step aside, if that's indeed what the governors wish. However, you will find that I will only _truly_ have left the school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Hagrid too spoke up. "Yeah, an' if anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the _spuders_. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm sayin'."

And with a wink, wink, nudge, nudge, two crazy hand motions (with his index finger pointed up) from Dumbledore to the corner where Harry and Ron hid, they all left the Hut, leaving Harry and Ron to make the next move.

Ron turned to look at Harry. "Bloody _hell_."

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	14. Bootspeak

This is not a test.

Do not try to adjust your computer screen in horror at the strange events that will occur in the next few chapters. The odd, random, and slightly sugar-coated adventures of the loser known as Harry Potter are only just starting. And, trust me, the oddest is yet to come.

This is not a test.

NOTE TO THE READERS There are a lot of references to different series/books/ children's tv shows in this chapter. I do not own any of said material. Thank you.

That Loser

**Chapter 14: Bootspeak**

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I know Hagrid said to follow the spudders, but…potatoes?" Ron blinked at Harry, who was squatting on the ground, staring with intense concentration at a potato in the Hogwarts gardens outside Hagrid's hut.

Harry's shoulders slumped, "Yeah, you're right, this is stupid. I mean, how am I supposed to follow the potatoes when they refuse to move! Stupid potatoes…think you're too good for me…well fine…never liked you anyway." Harry wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and continued muttering, a dark look on his face.

"What do you think Hagrid meant?" said Ron, picking up a potato and tossing it from hand to hand. He stared at the potato for a moment, then shrugged and took a bite.

Harry jumped up. "Hey, do you think Hagrid could have meant spiders instead of-?"

"SPIDERS! SPIDDDDDDDEEEERRRRRSSSSS! SPI-"

Harry clapped his hand over Ron's mouth. "Shhhh. It's past curfew already."

"Sorry." Ron looked down in shame.

"Hey, look!" Harry pointed to a trail of small black spiders crawling adroitly into the Forbidden Forrest. "Let's follow them!"

Ron looked at Harry as if he had gone mad, "Hey, I've got a better idea, let's not!"

Ron turned around to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm. "I can't do this without you. Please Ron?" Harry looked at Ron, his eyes huge. His lower lip trembled.

"No, no, no! Com'mon Harry, not the puppy dog pout! I can't…the spiders…I just…" he trailed off, then sighed in defeat, "Oh fine. You're really sick; you do know that, right?"

"I know." Harry smiled, "Get's you every time."

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Ron, a sour look on his face.

* * *

"Um, Harry, are you sure this is entirely safe?" Ron hastily looked over his shoulder at the sound of rustling leaves. "_Who's there!"_

A tall man with a sword, a long cape, a gross sweaty hair stepped out of the bushes. "Have you seen a group of-?"

Harry and Ron pointed.

"Thank you, my friends. Huzzah!" He lept off into the foliage.

"Those people are weird," said Ron.

"Yup," said Harry.

* * *

"Harry, do you think we're going the right way?" Ron peered over his shoulder nervously.

"Of course we are! See, all we have to do is follow the yellow brick road." Harry pointed to the yellow brick path underneath his feet.

"_Follow the yellow brick road!"_ A small squeaky voice whispered from the bushes.

"Who said that!" Ron whipped around quickly. "Show yourself!"

"_Follow the yellow brick road!" _A hat with a pink pompom flashed once and disappeared behind a tree.

"Seriously…dude, you're freaking me out!" Ron had started to sweat.

"_Follow the yellow brick road!"_ Bells tinkled.

"Stop messing with my MIND!" screamed Ron, whose overuse of exclamation points clearly showed he was loosing it.

Suddenly, a hobbit dressed in munchkin garb popped out from behind Harry. "_Follow the yellow brick-"_

A hobbit jumped up in front of Ron. _"Follow the yellow brick-"_

"_FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD!"_A whole chorus of hobbits began dancing around Ron, the bells on their shoes jingling, waving large candy canes, and squeaking with laughter in an annoying fashion. They skipped around Ron, using his kneecap as a maypole.

Ron stood in the midst of them, hands over his ears screaming, "Make it stop!"

And, as suddenly and disturbingly as they had come, they disappeared into the bushes giggling and chanting "_Follow the yellow brick road…follow the yellow brick…"_

Harry stared off after the hobbits, and then shook his head. "Wow. Can you believe…Ron, you ok?"

Ron was crouched in fetal position on the ground rocking back and forth, "No more midgets mommy…no more midgets mommy…" He suddenly screamed and brushed at his leg. "SPIDERS! Get them off!"

Harry blinked, "Spiders, right, we were supposed to follow the spiders! Let's go!" Harry ran off heroically down the winding brick road into the forest, the Harry Potter theme song blaring in the background, his red cape flying in the breeze…the music suddenly screeched to a halt as Harry stopped midstep, turned around, and ran back to Ron, who was still curled on the ground, rocking. He grabbed Ron by the arm and dragged him forward.

The giggling of the hobbits drifted on the wind, Ron swung his head wildly while Harry plunged on, determined.

"Follow the yellow brick 

_Follow the yellow brick_

_Follow the yellow brick-_

…_Edmund…"_

* * *

This part of the forest was darker, creeping vines had grown unheeded across the leaf strewn forest floor. A wedge of sickly yellow glimmered weakly through the twisted trees. Occasionally, one of the gnarled stumps would open a red eye and glare at the two boys tripping their way through the undergrowth.

"I think we lost them." Harry sighed.

Ron stood next to him, silent.

"Ron, did you see them come this way?"

Ron didn't say a word.

"Hmmm? Ron? Did you see them?"

…

"Ron! Honestly, I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall here! Why don't you put more effort into this relationship, I mean, I just feel so shut out, just tell me…"

Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve and turned around, his face frozen in horror. "H…h….harrr…"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Come on Ron, I don't have the patience to deal with one of your babbling spells right now."

"Sp…sp…spiders…." Ron pointed into the darkness and Harry's gaze followed his trembling finger into the shadows where something…big…moved.

"…Ron?" Harry started to back away.

"No, stay, I insist." A deep rough voice rumbled from a giant black mass of hair and legs resting in a deep crevasse in the forest floor.

"Um…who are you?" Harry's voice trembled a little as he slowly inched backwards.

"I could ask you the same thing. Are you friends of Hagrid's?"

Harry blinked in the direction of the voice, "Well…yes. We came to ask you…do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets? Hagrid's in some trouble, and I have to ask…are you the monster that's was in the chamber?"

"I, Aragon? The monster? No. What kind of trouble is Hagrid in?"

"Oh, he's been sent to Azkaban, but…if you're not the monster…then what is?" Harry stared intensely into the darkness, his curiosity drawing him forward.

"We do not speak of it! It is a creature feared by all spiders." The voices shook, but only slightly, and then the next second the unsteadiness was gone, as if it had never happened.

"So…you're a spider."

Ron squeaked.

Harry ignored him and continued "So if you aren't the monster…did Hagrid open the chamber of secrets last time?"

"Where did you hear that? That's a lie! Hagrid never open the chamber of secrets!" The voice shook with passion.

"Whoa…um…okay then. Well, thanks for that. I…guess we'll be going." Harry grabbed Ron's arm and backed away as quickly as possible. He did not want to be within 10 feet of a giant spider almost as emotionally spontaneous as Mrs. Weasley.

"Going? Going! I don't think so!" The deep rumbling voice laughed as a Broadway musical theme track filtered through the woods. A red curtain lowered around Aragon and a whole host of large spiders in top hats and tap shoes twirled onto a stage that had suddenly appeared underneath Aragon.

Come my children, you don't have to pay 

**It's a free two second-year student buffet!**

**Admittedly they are scrawny and unappealing**

**The four-eyes is a loser and the tall one's a dunce**

**But it'd be the first food we've-had-in-months- sooooooooooooo**

The spiders took off their top hats and struck a pose, complete with waving jazz hands and raised their canes.

**DIG IN MY BRETHEREN!**

While three of the spiders twirled around the stage doing an interpretive dance with a knife and fork, the rest of them threw off their Dinner Theatre garb and dove after Harry and Ron. Ron stood up and was clapping his hands, "Bravo! Hey Harry, com'mon clap, they weren't half bad!"

Harry grabbed Ron by the back on his cloak as the spiders leapt toward them with frightening speed, "Less talking, more running."

Harry knew, even as he and Ron stumbled through the trees that they wouldn't make it out alive. The spiders were much too fast, and were gaining with every second. "Ron, if we die, there's something I want you to know…I hate the Chudley Cannons."

The music screeched to a halt and Ron stopped midstep, "Harry!"

The music turned back on and they continued running. Ron turned to Harry, "Harry, I have something important to tell you…I kind of always wished that I was famous like y-" Suddenly, the Weasley's flying car burst through the foliage. The doors flew open and Harry and Ron jumped inside. Was the car flying itself? It appeared that way at first, except, as Ron tried to sit down in the drivers seat, he sat on something squishy.

"What the-?"

A hobbit was already sitting there, his head hardly coming up to the steering wheel, "Onward, Ho!"

Ron blinked, then reached for the door handle, "I'm going back."

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled him back in. "Don't be stupid, get in. Um…drive on my good hobbit."

The hobbit smiled and punched the air with his fist, "Huzzah!"

* * *

"Thanks for the ride," said Harry stepping out of the car onto the Hogwarts grounds.

The hobbit gave Ron a small kick as he stumbled out of the car, "That's for sitting on me. I hope we meet again Harry Potter, but next time…don't bring him." The car zoomed off into the sky, with the hobbit laughing in the driver's seat.

Ron brushed himself off, "Stupid hobbits."

But Harry wasn't paying attention; he was straining to hear a soft voice.

Let me…with the mustard…dance the polka 

_Let me…throw the monkey…in a goofy fashion…ring around the rosey…_

_Let me…steal your camel…with a hoopskirt _

_Blood…blood? Did someone say blood? Another mudblood….Ha….piggybank_

Harry gasped, "Someone else has been Petrified. Come one Ron, let's go!"

As Harry dragged Ron across the grounds for the fifth time in one night, Ron sighed. "How do you always KNOW this stuff!"

* * *

Harry groaned as he and Ron ran into the Hospital Wing, stopping right in front of the bed where Hermione lay, as silent and still as a statue. "No…Hermione!"

Ron tenderly touched her hand, "Hermione…I always sort of liked y-hey, what's this?"

Hermione was holding a giant sign. HARRY (and Ron) I KNOW WHAT'S IN THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS AND HOW IT'S GETTING AROUND THE SCHOOL, JUST LOOK UP WHAT'S IN THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS AND HOW IT GETS AROUND HOGWARTS BY MARVIN THE OBVIOUS.

Ron snorted and threw the sign in the trashcan. "Look up a book? She must be mental!"

Harry nodded, standing there awkwardly for a second. "Ok, let's go."

Ron shrugged, "Yup. Bye Hermione."

* * *

The floorboards in the Hospital Wing creeked quietly under a pair of bare feet. They tiptoed across the cold hardwood floor, once running loudly into a bed stand; the silent night was broken by a hissed curse. The mysterious figure hopped painfully holding one foot, and finally clomping to a stop in front of an occupied bed. There was the pop of a cap being removed and the squeak of magic marker.

Someone turned the doorknob, and the marker was dropped, accenting the slap of retreating footsteps. And another curse.

* * *

"I insist, you must go and see Hermione…even if…I have to…drag you…the whole way!" Professor McGonagall huffed in the effort of pulling Harry and Ron to the hospital wing by the back of their robes.

"But we were playing Quidditch!" complained Ron.

"The score was tied and I almost had the Snitch. It was almost in my hand. RIGHT IN MY HAND!" Harry's eyes bulged for a moment.

Ron blinked, "Uh…yeah. Harry might be a little fanatical, but I mean really Professor…you've got to have your priorities in order." He nodded seriously.

Professor McGonagall glared at him, "We're here, and I suggest you go and visit your friend. If I even so much as sniff a whiff of Quidditch in this Infirmary, then you'll have detention!"

Ron turned to Harry, whispering loudly, "No, no, put it away!" Harry dropped his head in disappointment and put away a bottle of 'Essence of Quidditch' he had brought for Hermione.

Harry and Ron sat by Hermione's bed awkwardly. Her bed sat in-between Colin Creevy, one of the other Petrified students, and a boy with his leg in a cast. "Do…do you think she can hear us?" Ron looked at Harry nervously, "I mean…I heard once that people in comas can hear what people say to them. Do you think that's true?"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, why?"

"Because I wanted to tell her that I really like he-what's that on her face?" Ron scrunched up his eyebrows and leaned forward towards Hermione's face. "Is…is that a moustache?"

A laugh escaped from Harry's throat, which he quickly turned into a cough, covering his mouth with his hand. It looked as if someone had drawn a lopsided curly moustache on Hermione's frozen face with permanent marker. "Who…hehehe..eh emm…who would do a thing like that?"

"Well, whoever it is, they're not going to get away with it!" Ron pounded his fist on the cast next to his shoulder, causing an immediate howl from the boy in the next bed.

"Hey man, what do you think you're-"

Ron ignored him, his face bright red in righteous anger, "Never, _Never, _NEVER!" With each never, he pounded on the cast of the boy, whose face turned white. It went something like this:

"Never,"

"Ouch! Look, can't we-OUCH!"

"_Never,"_

"Dude, what's you deal ma-AHHHH!"

"NEVER!"

"Oh…my femur…"

Ron sat there, the veins in his neck standing out blue in contrast to his solid scarlet neck; he was huffing from the effort of his passionate speech.

"Um…Ron?"

"YEAH!"

"Can we take it down a level here?"

Ron blinked at him, "Oh, uh, sure yeah…sure."

"Do you want to go check out that book Hermione talked about?"

Ron nodded cautiously, "Yeah, that would probably be a good idea…I think I popped an artery."

* * *

"All right," said Harry, scanning the ancient yellowed pages of What's in the Chamber of Secrets and How it Gets Around Hogwarts which, despite the recent fervor about the chamber, remained unchecked out, the philosophy behind this being that no book with real answers could be _that _obvious. Unfortunately for those students, they were wrong. Sometimes the most important information is found in the most obvious places, which is a lesson Harry and his friends would have to learn again and again throughout their Hogwarts careers. Though for some reason, they never seemed to get the picture.

"It says," read Harry, running his finger along the page, "that the Chamber of Secrets was created by Salazar Slytherin in secret with its entrance in the girls' lavatory-"

"What's that?" Ron interrupted.

Harry frowned, "I dunno. Some sort of laboratory maybe?"

Ron looked down at his hands, "I wish Hermione were here."

Harry patted Ron on the shoulder sympathetically, "I know. But…unfortunately she's sitting in the hospital wing as stiff as stone with a moustache drawn on her lip. I don't think there's much she can do. All we can do is follow her clues. Now, getting back to the book…" Harry returned to his place on the page, "…is marked with the seal of Slytherin."

Ron furrowed his brow, "Now what would that be?"

Harry stared at Ron, wondering if he could really be that clueless, "I'm thinking a snake probably. Of course it's just a guess."

Ron waved a hand, "No, no, too obvious."

Harry looked a little annoyed now, "_Anyway_…If the monster, a basilisk, placed inside the chamber by Slytherin is ever released by his heir, it would be able to travel through the piping and water system and wander freely about the school."

Ron pounded his fist on the table (though luckily, there was no cast underneath it this time). "That's it! Com'mon Harry, we've got to go get some help!"

"But who should we ask for help when we don't know what to do?" said Harry.

All of the sudden, there was the sound of fingers snapping, as every student in the library put down their books and started snapping the beat to the Dora the Explorer theme song.

A scroll of paper by Harry's hand suddenly leapt up and started to dance and sing.

If there's a place you wanna go, I'm the one you need to know 

**I'm the map…**

**I'm the map, I'm the map.**

**If there's a place you wanna get, I can get you there I bet!**

**I'm the map…**

**I'm the map, I'm the map**

**I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the-**

"That's it, I've had enough." Ron shoved the protesting map back into a small purple backpack that was lying on the ground. "First the hobbits, now singing maps! It's getting pretty weird around here."

Something tugged at the end of Ron's cloak.

"Whassat?" Ron twirled around to see a small monkey in red rubber boots smiling at him.

"Hola, I'm Boots! Have you seen-"

"A giant spider?" guessed Ron.

"A hobbit?" said Harry

"A famous mountain climbing accident?" piped in one of the readers in the library.

"A secret passageway?"

"A diary?"

"Your fashion sense?"

"A man with a wooden leg named Smith?"

"A diving helmet?"

"Charles Darwin?"

Everyone turned to look at the last speaker. The brown haired Ravenclaw shrugged, "I mean, come on, it's a talking monkey for crying out loud. The missing link! I've got to go tell the Science Community!" He excitedly grabbed the monkey and raced out the door.

Harry and Ron stared at the door, then back at each other. "Yeah…that wasn't normal." Said Ron.

"Hey, we've still got to go tell someone about the Chamber!" said Harry, jumping from his seat, "Let's go tell Dumbledore…no, on second hand, I think we'd better tell Professor McGonagall."

Ron looked at Harry quizzically, "Why?"

"Because it's Tuesday. Remember, it's one of his Propeller Hat days."

"Oh…yeah, I'm thinking we should go find McGonagall."

* * *

Harry and Ron ran down the water soaked third-floor passageways to find the Professor. This was rather odd, since her room was on the second floor, but this story would be way less interesting if they didn't stumble onto a message written on the wall in dried blood…well, red paint, but let's pretend for the sake of theatrics.

"Hey Ron, what's that," said Harry, stopping mid-stride. "It looks like some sort of writing, do you…oh no."

Harry stopped and stared in horror at the bloodlike writing on the wall. With his mouth hanging open, he tapped Ron shoulder.

"What…oh. GINNY!" Ron stared in horror at the message.

_**I have taken Ginny Weasley.**_

**_Her bones will lie in the Chamber forever… SO RESPECT Y'ALL!_**

Ron didn't wait for the backup dancers to show this time. Pushing past an annoyed dancing Malfoy, he raced up a huge flight of stairs to the second floor, only to bump into someone totally unexpected carrying a stack of autographed photos.

"Weasley! Could you be more careful next time, I could have dropped these!" Lockhart stopped to stroke the top picture with his finger. "Don't worry my pet; I won't let the bad man hurt you." Both the actual and the picture form of Lockhart glared at Ron.

"Professor! We need your help, Ginny's been taken into the chamber-"

"Oh, yes, yes," said Lockhart, as if Harry was talking about having a sore toe instead of a girl being kidnapped by a sinister villain, "Dreadful business. Well, ah, I hope she's found. I would go get her myself, you know, but I do have all of these pictures-hey!"

Ron knocked the pictures out of Lockhart's hands with one backhanded sweep.

"My pictures! They'll be ruined!"

Ron glared at him, "Now that your precious pictures are taken care of, will you help us!"

Lockhart hesitated for a moment, "Well, I'm quite busy…"

Harry held us a picture he had hidden behind his back. "Help us or something bad is going to happen to your little friend here." Harry held us a scissors and smiled evilly.

"NOOOO! Little Gilderoy, my favorite! Fine, fine, I'll comply with your demands. Just give him to me!"

Harry drew back his hand, "I will, _after _we've rescued Ginny. Now let's go."

"But…but we don't know where the entrance is!" said Lockhart desperately.

Harry smiled grimly, tying on his red cape. "Yes we do…thanks to Hermione." Harry led them into the third floor girls' bathroom. "Now, the book said the entrance would be marked with the seal of Slytherin."

Ron nodded sagely, "I'm thinking it's a boot."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Um, thanks for your input Ron, but I think it's a snake."

Ron sniffed, "Suit yourself."

Harry looked around the small space wildly, "But where should we look? Oh, what the heck, how about these totally innocent looking sinks?" Harry carefully examined each sink and faucet until he stopped in front of the one closest to where he had started. The rust stain running down the sink was bright crimson like blood, and spelled out THE ENTRANCE TO THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS if you looked at it sideways. Of course, if you looked at it from a different angle, it said FLUFFY BUNNIES SHOULD BE SHAVED AND SAVED. If you looked at it upside-down, you might have seen that the dripping letters spelled out EDMUND, but that is an entirely different story.

"I don't believe it." Said Harry staring at the faucet. "Take a look." Harry was pointing to an engraving on the faucet of a snake inside of a boot. "How did you know!"

Ron shrugged, smiling, "I'm just lucky I guess."

"Ok, so how do we open it?" Harry quickly pulled out the book Hermione had recommended. "To open the chamber, one must speak '_Open_' in Parseltongue and '_Enter_' in Bootspeak." Harry looked up from the book, "Bootspeak?"

Ron waved a hand, "Don't worry, all Weasleys are fluent in Bootspeak. You say the Parseltongue part, and I'll say the Bootspeak part."

Lockhart raised a hand, "And I'll watch, while planning to overthrow you and escape!"

"Ready?" said Harry.

"Ssssssssssssssssssassssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhsssssssssukkkkkkkksssssssssss," hissed Harry.

"Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooots!" said Ron.

There was a loud creaking, and the sink lowered itself into the floor, creating a grungy staircase.

Harry turned around and smiled at Lockhart, "You first. Walk down the staircase, then tell us if it's safe."

Lockhart gulped and nodded, jumping into the blackness, "FOR LITTLE GILDEROOOOOOOOOOOY!"

"Or you could just jump," said Harry.

* * *

**_Oddly_**


	15. Mad Evil Lord Troom

And here we are again! The ending of a year at Hogwarts, these are sad, but not to worry! Five more years, and trust me, all of the good stuff doesn't come out until the third book anyways, I can't wait, So TALLY-HO! Unto the last chapter! Or, the last out of seven anyways…

That Loser 

**Chapter 15: Mad Evil Lord Troom**

Harry found himself speeding down a dark, slimy, damp, endless, jagged, and among other adjectives, slide.

It was amazing, really, what he would do for his best mate's completely innocent and not guilty of any heinous crimes at all, sister.

A couple minutes later Harry was unceremoniously dumped out of the tunnel and crashed onto Professor Lockhart's back; who was just picking himself up, the impact resulting in bad knee-brain compliance and they both crashed to the ground. Ron plopped onto Harry a second later.

Nimbly Ron sprang off his best friend, and groaning slightly, Harry picked himself up, Lockhart following suit.

Ron's hair was pressed against his head, his bangs spiked straight up from wind, his eyes bright and sparkling.

"Wow. What a rush." He breathed.

Harry mutely nodded, rubbing his shoulder. Then he started scanning his surroundings, and tying on his red cape.

The walls were made up of blocks of stone and cracked cement, slime and mold covering the top and bottom of the walls, crawling up the middle, there was no ceiling, or at least- there was-but it was to far up to see, the shadows masking it and the tunnel they had just flown out of. And the ground-the ground was filled with bones. Over all, it reeked of dirty dog.

Lockhart was brushing himself off, gazing around in wide-eyed horror, at the sight, or maybe the state of his clothes.

Finally Harry's brown eyes-opps, Harry blinked-green eyes, saw what it was looking for, a door, a way out-or in.

"There-" Harry pointed to the huge round door. It was sealed with statues of stone snakes curling around the edges, blocking anyone from entering any further. The statue's-although not real- eyes were glinting off the small light, glaring at the strangers.

"Blimey." Ron said weakly. "It's all here…its really real-"

"We must be miles under the school, under the lake maybe…" his foot crunched against a rat's skull.

There was a mild thump behind them; it seemed that Lockhart's knees had given out again.

Ron clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes, then pointed his wand at the professor. "Get _up_."

And Lockhart did as he was told – then dived at Ron, knocking him back and off his feet, unto the ground.

Harry jumped towards the struggling mass, but it was too late, a second later Professor Lockhart straightened and in his hand was Ron's wand. With a malicious smirk upon his face, Lockhart kicked Ron over towards where Harry was standing and pointed Ron's wand at the two boys.

"The adventure ends here lads, it's been fun while it lasted, too bad you won't remember a thing when this is all done, I'll just skip on out of here, and tell the professors I was too late to save the girl, and you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body…"

"But!" Harry spoke out, "You can't just leave her down here, she's perfectly innocent! _You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"  
_

Lockhart sniffed, "I assure you, there was nothing like this in the job description."

Ron's eyes were bugging out, "What are you talking about? All those books you're in - !"

"Books can be misleading!"

"You wrote them!"

"Harry, my dear boy, use common sense, my books wouldn't have sold half as well if people thought it was some ugly Cuban wizard who discovered the secrets of shiny hair care! No, all I had to do was track them down, and with a well placed Memory Charm…"

The professor trailed off, his smirk widening. "Now, say goodbye to those memories."

Harry sighed with relief, finally just realizing what was happening. "Ron!" he whispered, "Ron! It's going to be fine!"

Ron slowly turned to face Harry, his face gone of any color. "What!" he croaked.

"I just now realized! Ron-he's got your wand-its broken from the car wreak we had! It's not going to work!"

Ron paled even more. "Ye-yeah…well Harry I've always wanted to tell you this, but, I've always wanted to be famous like you, I love you mate!"

Harry was puzzled at what was going on, I mean, they were fine, Ron himself had told him his wand had broken after the wreck.

"An-and, I really don't think you're that much of a loser-"

Harry's eyes widened. "_What?_ Ron are we going to die!"

"_Obliviate!"_

The wand exploded backwards in a bright pale blue light, directly at Lockhart, and Harry sprung to his feet and ran towards the door that lead into the Chamber.

Chunks of rock and pieces of the tunnel walls and ceiling were thundering to the floor, falling everywhere. A moment later Harry was standing alone by the door and a huge wall of rocks had appeared.

He scrambled over to the wall that was blocking his way back up to Hogwarts. "Ron!" he called, "Ron! Are you alright!"

"Yeah…" a faint voice called from behind the wall. There was a laugh, "The git- he held the wand backwards-blasted himself…" There was a dull thud and a loud "ow!" as Ron smashed Lockhart on the head with a rock.

"Ron, you start shifting some of that rock…and I-I'm, I'm going in." Harry paused.

"Yeah-yeah, Harry, I'll do that, and Harry-"

"-I'll see you in a bit," Harry called back to him, his knees shaking, and started walking towards the door. He stared up at the stone-carved serpents in morbid fascination,… was that a boot?

Harry knew what he had to do, straightening his cape, he cried: "_Open._" Only it sounded more like: "_Ssssssssssssaaahaaasssseeeennnnnnnnnnnn_."

The door wouldn't budge. Glaring, Harry tried again. "_Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnn_."

But the doors wouldn't move, he had said the right thing, why wasn't-Harry's eyes landed on the stone-carved boots. Oh yeah.

"Ron! Hey, Ron!"

"…yeah…?" Ron's voice echoed back as he paused from shifting the rocks.

"Yeah, um, well…what's Bootspeak for open?"

And like a deranged cow, Ron called back. "_Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooots_"

"T-thanks."

Harry turned back to the doorway, cleared his throat-

"Boooooooooooooottttttttttttttttttttttssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!"

Nothing happened.

"Less 's' and more 'o'!" Ron called over to him.

"Oh, um, right." Harry cleared his throat again.

"_Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooots_."

And with the Parseltongue and Bootspeak uttered, the serpents' eyes glowed green, they parted and the wall cracked open, the halves sliding smoothly out of sight.

"Ron," he called back over towards his best friend. "If-if I'm not back in an hour…just wait longer."

And with a determined look on his face, Harry tripped on his red cape and stumbled into the next room.

* * *

Harry was surrounded by big statues of snakes and mossy water, across the room on the opposite wall was a giant statue of an old bearded man; he was winking and was making a big thumbs up sign. Harry sniffed in distaste; it still smelled like old dog. Quickly Harry picked up the end of his cape (he didn't want the ends getting wet) and tip-toed across the water-soaked floor clear across the room towards-what looked like- a body.

On closer inspection, Harry could see that the person had on very stylish modern clothes-it could only be

"Ginny!"

Harry ran up to her and dropped to his knees, then pulled her face up towards his, a couple chicken feathers fell off. She wasn't breathing.

"Harry Pooter-" A figure walked out of the shadows near the huge statue.

Harry quickly looked up, noticing the tall pale looking boy. "Tom?" He questioned. "Tom _Riddle?_ What-what, what you doing here-and Ginny, is she…?"

"Dead? No, Ginny's not dead, not yet. And I'm simply a memory, preserved in the pages of the diary."

Harry looked down at Ginny again, now noticing the familiar diary clutched in her hand. Why would poor innocent Ginny have Tom's diary, and what did honest innocent Tom have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?

"Tom-Tom, you have to help me wake her up, the basilisk might be along any minute…"

But Tom wasn't really listening, only twirling a wand around and around again between his long pale fingers. A wand that looked awfully familiar-his wand.

Harry, now being slightly confused, stood up and outstretched his hand. "Can I have my wand back?"

And Tom was still smiling, his eyes glowing with hunger, still twirling Harry's wand around and around and around…" No Harry, you see, we have some talking to do, and I don't want you to do anything rash…"

There was a weird little lurch in Harry's stomach, having just realized something. "How do you know my name?"

He didn't answer, but took a step towards Harry. "It's strange," Tom whispered, "little likenesses between us…even _you_ must have noticed-"

Harry stiffened "Are you implying something?"

Tom continued, "Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles, Parseltongues…, we even look alike; black hair, blue eyes…"

Harry raised a hand, "Oh, wait, sorry about that-" He closed his eyes and then reopened them, they were emerald green once again.

Tom finally seemed to lose his self-composure. "Wha-?"

Harry laughed, "Well you see, its funny really, it seems Warner Brothers are too cheap to buy me green contacts, so occasionally my eyes suddenly change colors…" Harry trailed off, seeing that Tom really didn't care.

"ANYWAYS, we both have black hair, and…eyes, and Adam's apples…"

"And wands?" Harry volunteered.

"Yes!" shouted Tom, "Well, no…uh, not right now…uh, we both went to Hogwarts…Do you like chess?"

Harry mutely nodded.

"Yes! Yes, fascinating game. See? We really do have a lot in common..."

Harry decided to speak up, "Ok, so-so, why are we down here, and why is Ginny here-"

"Ah yes, you see, Ginny's been writing to me all year, in my diary. You see Harry Pooter, fifty years ago, I was the heir of Slytherin, and all this year Ginny's been doing my work for me…writing messages on the walls, killing off Hagrid's roosters, and filling me up with her deepest darkest secrets…so that I could regenerate."

Harry clenched his fists, his cape flying out behind him in defiance, "What? That's not possible! I never saw anything to suggest that!"

"Yes…you see Harry Pooter, I had come back to finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work…"

"Well it didn't work did it? Nobody died this time, and by tomorrow, everyone who has been petrified will be awoken."

Tom sneered, then forced his face into that awful smile.

"No, you see, for many months now, my new target has been you, Harry Pooter."

Harry growled. "Why? Why do you care about me!"

Tom stepped forward again. "Tell me Harry," he whispered, "how a mere baby defeated the most powerful wizard of all time? How did you escape with only a scar when Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escape, Voldemort was after your time."

Tom smiled, "Lord Voldemort is my past, present, and future…"

Abruptly turning around, Tom pulled out Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three simmering words:

_**Tom Marvolo Riddle**_

Then he waved the wand once and the letters began to rearrange themselves…

_**Mad Evil Lord Troom**_

Tom's smile faded, he whipped the wand out again and swished it around:

_**I'm Lord Dove Mortal**_

He growled, grinding his teeth, waved the wand again:

_**Lo, I'm Lord Tom Vader**_

"Agggrrh!"

_**Dim Lord Moat Lover**_

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed, "Look, what are you trying to do? Need some help?"

"No-I-Don't-Need-Any-Bloody-Help."

_**Lord Vomit Moraler**_

And twice more:

_**Vote Mild Lord Mora**_

_**Lord Mortal Motive**_

Finally, Tom seemed to have got it.

_**I am Lord Voldemort**_

Tom stood back beaming, proud of his work. Harry stared at it for a couple seconds, confused.

"Its…it's…an ANAGRAM? That's ridiculous! You can rearrange your name to spell a French sentence? That's unlikely."

Tom scowled, "What! What? So?"

Harry raised his hands, "Hey, I'm just saying, that's one convenient middle name."

"Yes well, being an evil genius is harder than it looks-"

"Wait-" Harry interrupted, he was staring at the message again, his lips moving as he read it out again. "_You're Lord Voldemort?"_

"Well, yeah."

Harry had always been a little slow.

"AHHHHHHHH!" With a giant scream Harry began to run away, around and around and around the room.

"Harry-Harry-wait, we can work this out-" Tom called out, watching Harry blindly racing about.

"AHHHHH!"

"Pooter-!"

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Harry finally stopped, in a small dark corner, far away from Tom, huddling down; Harry grabbed his knees and began rocking back and forth.

"This can't be happening, Lockhart, rock slide, Bootspeak, this Chamber, Voldemort, this can't be real, I must be going crazy! I need some help-"

A beautiful cry echoed in the damp dark room, a bright flaming red bird was flying towards Harry, something black clutched in its claws.

"Fawks!" Harry jumped to his feet, new hope blazing in his eyes, "Dumbledore had always told me that if I was loyal to him Fawks would come! But-what did I say?"

Fawks was half way towards Harry when the bird burst into flames and fell to the ground in a pile of ashes.

Harry's mouth dropped open; he had just killed Dumbledore's bird!

But then, in the pile of ashes, arose the phoenix again, slightly ruffled. About ten feet later he fell to the ground in ashes again. After three more tries Fawks reached Harry and dropped the bundle he was carrying at Harry's feet, squawking in annoyance and flapped away.

Harry bent over and picked it up – it was – the _Sorting Hat?_

Harry stared at it blankly; Dumbledore had sent Harry an old cloth hat in his time of greatest need. Harry just knew there was something wrong with him when he started wearing that propeller hat.

So Harry did the only thing he could think of in a time like this, he slammed the hat on his head, it promptly fell over his eyes; he preferred not to witness his own demise.

"Oh help me, help me, help me" Harry frantically whispered, "-I wish I was back in my room-"

Suddenly, the Sorting Hat contracted, as if it was being tightly squeezed, then something hard and heavy landed sharply on top of Harry's head, he grabbed the top, pulling the hat off, the object that hit him falling out of the hat.

The long object clattered to the ground, it was a gleaming gold mop, rubies the size of eggs engraved in the handle, and the words Godric Gryffindor etched down the handle.

Harry stared at it in shock; this was a priceless collector's item – to think that he, Harry, was holding the Mop of Godric Gryffindor…

But he could meditate on this later, right now he had a mission to do, so quickly wiping the drool off his face, Harry scooped up The Mop and boldly waked back towards Tom.

"Oh Harry, there you are, I wandered were you got off to," Tom greeted him good-naturedly.

"Tom-" Harry pointed his hand up to make a point, it was war, or time to disco. "I can't let you kill everyone with the basilisk, I must stop you here!" In his other hand the Gryffindor Mop gleamed in the dim lighting.

Tom laughed heartily, "No, you don't understand Harry Pooter, I've been trying to tell you, I've had an epiphany!"

Harry slowly lowered his arm. "What, really?"

"Yes Harry Pooter, you jive turkey! I no longer want death and destruction. Are you feeling my vibe, man?"

Harry narrowed his eyes; this was starting to sound awfully suspicious, even worse than death, war and famine.

"See, Harry Pooter, you groovy man, I just want world peace! No baths, government, meat, or shoes! Just hacky sacks and acid trips!"

Harry's eyes widened, this was worse than before! "NOOOO! DIE HIPPIE!" Harry took an angry swipe with the mop towards Tom.

Tom ducked, and then slowly straightened up, undoing his tie, his eyes flashing. "So…Pooter, that's the way you want it. Well Lord Voldemort always gets what he wants, and no loser like you is going to stop me!"

Harry faltered, "L-loser? You too?"

"There's no saving you now Pooter, its time to start what should have been finished fifty years again! You may be a Parseltongue, Pooter, but the basilisk only answers to me!"

Tom swiftly turned around to face the giant statue of the weird old man; he opened his mouth wide and hissed.

"_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

And to Harry's horror, the giant stone face of Slytherin's was moving, his mouth opening wider and wider to make a huge black hole.

There was a silent tension through out the Chamber, an eerie moment of silence then suddenly- movement. It happened so fast that Harry didn't have much time to think.

Something big, huge, and bright green slipped out of the mouth and fell to the floor with a huge _thud! _

And it wasn't moving. In fact, it appeared to be rotting.

Tom stared at the basilisk, his bottom jaw dropped open. "Slythery? Noo...what happened to you?"

In the background Harry snorted.

Tom whirled around, rounding on Harry. "WHAT'S SO FUNNY?"

Harry snorted again, "Well, jeez, you hadn't fed it in fifty years, what did you suspect?"

Tom growled, "That's it Pooter! I'll finish you off myself!" He withdrew Harry's wand from his pocket.

"Yeah? Ghostie boy and his dead snake?" Harry laughed, "I'm sooo scared!" Shaking his head in amusement, Harry turned away, and began waking back towards Ginny. "I'll see you later Tommy."

And that was precisely when Harry tripped and fell onto the basilisk, a fang breaking off and embedding in his left arm.

"AHHHH, Bugger that!"

Harry staggered up again, his left forearm now burning with the poison.

Tom smiled wickedly, "Well look Pooter; it looks like my job was done for me."

Harry sneered at Tom, if he was going down, so was he. So Harry slowly wobbled over towards Ginny and dropped to his knees, grapping the diary from her cold fingers, with his right hand he ripped the fang out of his arm.

Riddle narrowed his eyes, "What are you doing Pooter."

Harry looked up at sixteen year-old Tom Riddle, the future Lord Voldemort. Harry was bloody, dirty, and his cape was ripped – so he had to make this look dramatic.

"IT'S POTTER!"

And with the fang in his right hand, with a big arch, Harry slammed the fang back down into – his left hand.

"AH! BLOODY HELL!"

Now ripping it out of his left hand, Harry carefully held the fang with both hands and pushed it into the heart of Tom's diary. The venom was burning a hole right through it.

There was a scream and Tom reached out towards him, shaking, then leaped back, his body twisting and contorting, when in a bright light- he was gone.

With a sigh, Harry slumped down, the burning sensations so strong now that it was turning numb. Something stirred beside him. Ginny sat up, a hand to her forehead. She opened her eyes, looking at the dead basilisk, over to the destroyed diary, then to a blood soaked Harry.

"H-harry!" she gasped. "You're hurt!"

Harry gave a feeble laugh. "N-no, its ok, Fawks is here so I'll be fine-IF-HE-BLOODY-HURRIES-HIS-ARSE-UP."

Fawks gave a reproachful caw, then flapped over-turned to ash and fell to the ground. Out of the ashes a slightly smaller Fawks hobbled over to Harry and eyed him.

"Well? Come on then." Harry persuaded the phoenix.

And Fawks cried- well, more of sneezed on Harry's wounds. Harry glared at the stupid bird, but could feel them begin to heal.

"Harry-" Ginny spoke up. "I didn't mean to do anything-T-Tom, he forced me, I'm so sorry…" She began sniffing, "I'm going to be expelled!"

Harry smiled at her and stood up, reaching out a hand to her. "Don't worry about it Ginny, Dumbledore will understand."

So the two Gryffindors proceeded to leave the inner Chamber and walked back out to the tunnel, Harry could hear the doors slowly closing behind them.

"Ron!" Harry called out, as they came in view of the pile of rubble. "Ron! She's ok! I got her!"

Behind the wall, Ron gave a shaky cheer; he had made a hole in the wall just big enough for them to squeeze through.

"Ginny!" Ron cried as he spied her, he quickly pulled her through first, Harry jumped through after her.

"Oh Harry! Thanks so much! Wh-what's that bird? And where did you get that mop?"

So Harry told them his daring adventure – maybe spicing it up a bit here and there.

"Wow Harry," Ron whistled when he was done. "I can't believe I'm saying this twice in one day, but maybe you're not quite the loser I thought you were."

Harry grinned, "Thanks Ron, now, let's get out of here."

Harry grabbed onto Fawks tail feathers, Ron, held onto his cape, and Ginny onto Ron's hand, and up, up, away they flew. Halfway there they had to turn back in get the professor.

"Wow! This is just like magic!"

* * *

Harry and the group plopped out in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"You're alive." Myrtle stated blankly, "Oh, if you had died, I would have let you shared my toilet." She sounded disappointed.

Harry weakly smiled, Ron made a gagging noise, and when all their backs were turned Ginny glared and mouthed:

"Back off he's_ mine_."

"So! Where to, Harry?" Ron questioned.

"Follow that bird!" And one-by-one they trooped out of the bathroom and followed Fawks as he led them down the hallways to Dumbledore's Office.

* * *

"Ginny!"

Inside Dumbledore's Office were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster.

Mrs. Weasley had trapped her daughter in a big hug, then with tear-filled eyes- she grabbed Ron and Harry, embracing them too.

"You saved her! How is this possible? What happened?"

So once again Harry told his story, expanding on the Forbidden Forest, and Hermione's research.

"I was writing in that diary all year Mum!" Ginny sniffed. "Am I, am I going to be expelled?" Ginny turned to look at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore smiled, "No my dear, seeing as you were enchanted, this was not your fault. Why don't you go up to see Poppy and see what she can do for you."

Ginny hastily rose to her feet, her parents following after her, Mrs. Weasley giving Harry one more hug before she left.

"And Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore now turned to Ron. "Would you kindly escort the professor here up to the Hospital Wing too? See what Poppy can do for that Memory Charm, the basilisk victims should be waking up about now too."

Ron nodded, slowly leading Lockhart out the door, McGonagall rose to help him.

Now, it was only Harry and Dumbledore.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore; there were some things he really wanted to ask the Headmaster.

"Professor," Harry started, "I couldn't help but notice some similarities-um, between me and Riddle, and the Sorting Hat did say that I would do well in Slytherin-"

Dumbledore held up a hand.

"Harry, you can speak Parseltongue because Voldemort can speak Parseltongue, you see, that night, Voldemort transferred some of his own powers to you when he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…"

"But Professor! The Sorting Hat said I'd do well in Slytherin, the only reason I'm not in it is because I asked it to put me in Gryffindor-"

"Exactly Harry, it's our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities, and if you want proof that you belong in Gryffindor, then I suggest that you remember what you pulled out of the Sorting Hat."

Harry smiled remembering Gryffindor's Mop. Ahh, what a beautiful thing.

"Headmaster, there's something else, if the basilisk was dead all along, then why were people being petrified?"

Dumbledore sighed, "I'm afraid Harry, that that was Professor Snape, you see, he's just kinda evil."

"So all those conveniently placed mirrors by the basilisk victims had nothing to do with the fact that if a basilisk doesn't directly look at you than you'll only be petrified?"

"No." Said Dumbledore bluntly.

There was an awkward silence.

"And-and the voices I was hearing, that wasn't the snake moving inside the walls?"

"No Harry, you're just hearing things."

"Oh."

"You're just kind of a loser."

"Oh."

"Well Harry," Dumbledore concluded their conversation, "what you need is food and sleep, so why don't you get down to the feast, I'm sure your friends are waiting for you."

Harry got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached the handle, however, when the door burst open and in strutted Lucius Malfoy. And a familiar elf trotted in behind him.

"So…" Malfoy sneered. "You've come back, the governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well you see Lucius, strange thing, the governors were under the impression that if they didn't sign that Order of Suspension, then you would curse their families, and once they heard about Arthur Weasley's daughter, they reinstated me."

"Have you stopped the attacks yet? Caught the culprit?" Malfoy demanded.

"Yes."

Lucius paled. "_Well?_"

"Lord Voldemort, the same as last time, only this time he was acting through this diary." Dumbledore held up the diary.

But Harry's attention was on Dobby now, who was frantically pointing to the diary then back to Mr. Malfoy.

"I would advise you Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore spoke up, "not to be giving out any of Voldemort's old school things, seeing as next time, I'm sure Arthur Weasley will trace them back to you."

Malfoy stood still for a moment then turned to the door. "Come on Dobby! We're leaving!"

And with a flourish of his long cloak and hair, Lucius Malfoy kicked Dobby out of the room, and left.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry hurriedly addressed the Headmaster, coming up with a plan. "Can I give this diary back to Mr. Malfoy?"

"Certainly Harry."

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!" Harry ran down the hallway after Malfoy, finally he stopped and turned around to glare at Harry.

"Here's your book back, oh and I wanted to give you this."

Harry took his left shoe off and flung it at Malfoy, he ducked.

"What are you doing-!"

Harry frowned, then threw his other shoe at him. He ducked again.

"Potter-!"

This time Harry threw his sock, Lucius sidestepped that, advancing on him. If Lucius wouldn't touch a piece of Harry's clothing, his plan would fail!

Harry took off his last sock and ran up to Lucius, planted it on his face and quickly backed away.

Snarling, Malfoy threw the sock down. "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days Potter."

He turned to go. "Come Dobby."

But nothing happened, because in Dobby's hands was Harry's sock. "Master gave Dobby clothes." Said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, Dobby is free!"

"You lost me my servant, boy!" Lucius lunged at Harry, his wand outstretched, "Avada-!"

Dobby jumped in front of Harry. "Stop!" he commanded. "We don't learn that spell till the fourth book!" With a bang Malfoy was thrown backwards. "You shall leave now." Dobby commanded, and then turned to Harry. "Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew! Farewell Harry Potter!"

"Thanks Dobby!" Harry called back.

* * *

Harry arrived in the Great Hall, met with hug by Hermione. "Oh you figured it out!" Hermione smiled brightly.

"Uh, yeah…"

"So did you miss me? Visit me lots?" She questioned.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Hermione, you were stone; we only came once when McGonagall forced us."

Hermione's eyes widened, even Harry knew that wasn't the right thing to say.

"I can't believe you Ronald! You were more worried about me being called a Mudblood than being petrified!"

Besides that small down point, the rest of the night was one big party; Harry nailed Gryffindor the House Cup with his extra four hundred points earned by saving the school, Gryffindor now winning the House Cup twice in a row. Hagrid had returned from Azkaban (and Harry was sure he would never here about that place again!), exams had been canceled as a school treat, and Lockhart would be unable to return next year. Over all Harry's second year was brilliant.

* * *

At King's Cross Harry scribbled down his telephone number and gave them to Hermione and Ron, instructing them to call.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione hugged him one last time, "I'll see you next year, it'll be so exciting with all these new classes third years can take!" Hermione was referring to the extra classes the second years had to pick out on the last week of school, Harry and Ron had both chosen Divination and Care of Magical Creatures (Harry thought Divination was a stupid subject, and he would never use it anyways) and naturally Hermione took everything.

Ron patted Harry on the back, "Yeah, that was one crazy year."

"Well it is Britain."

Some people in the background raised their cups: "To the Queen!" there was noises of shattering teacups.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron continued. "Next year should be back to normal."

Scabbers gave a malicious squeak.

The Golden Trio smiled, and gave one last good-bye, another year gone, and another exciting adventure awaiting them.

* * *

There was a small island off the coast of some unnamed country, foggy air and grey waters, everything was cold and had an air of death.

On this small uncharted island was a grey building-a prison really, filled with cells and bars, and tall black cloaked figures hovering around and sucking the happiness out of everything, leaving the prisoners mad and inches from death.

Down a hallway in the bleak place was one cell the black robed figures drifted in greater qualities.

And in the prison, bony fingers curled around the rusted bars, the prisoner's dead haunted eyes suddenly giving a flare of life.

"He's at Hogwarts."

* * *

There was a house on the hill, over looking everything else, nothing in that town seemed as scary, as haunting, as that house, with its rickety gate and long green ivy vines.

The House was haunting, the house was a mystery, and the house had just become an Inn.

It had been ten years since the last death at the house, and the manager was sure that everyone had forgotten-or at least dulled the events at which happened. Because the Inn was his pride and joy and he couldn't stand to see it fail.

So he was nervous that crisp September morning, the Inn was going to receive its first guests. A group of college kids who where spending the night on a dare, having researched the house on the internet, but the manager could care less the reason for their stay, as long as it could the Inn off it's feet.

* * *

"Room 6." The man in charge of the Inn handed the keys to Lucy. Lucy and her three friends Matt, Brett, and Anne where spending the night at the end for a dare.

Personally, Lucy could care less about the dare, and the money riding on it to complete it. She just wanted a peaceful night away from the hustle of college, and deadlines, and having to bang the broomstick on the ceiling of her dorm only to yell again for the people on top of her dorm 'To Turn It Down!'

But the rest, the rest were a little disappointed in having to end their drink binge slightly early, they were here solely for the money.

"Oh Lucy-Lou!" Brett cat-called and plopped down on one of the two beds that were in Room 6. "Are you sharing with me are Matt?"

Lucy grinned, and pushed him back down, "In your dreams."

"Come on Luce!" Anne came running in, her blonde hair bouncing in her little pigtails, sunglasses atop her head. "Let's go check out the town before it gets dark!"

Lucy rolled her eyes, she really wanted to sleep, "Ok, sure."

The two girls left the room, brushing past the house plants. It shook its leaves slightly.

"_Edmund…" _

* * *

When Anne and Lucy got back to the room, it was late and Anne had two gigantic shopping bags. Lucy was vaguely amazed at her friends shopping skill, it was a very small town, and Lucy hadn't figured it had had that much interesting stuff to buy.

After the girls set their things down, and settled in for the night, the two boys decided to cap off their stay and tell ghost stories.

"And in the end as the officers left the scene, only a whisper was heard drifting into the night:_ Edmund...all for you Edmund...in the window I saw you there...in my heart, you lived there once...Edmund...I will not forget..." _Matt finished his story.

Anne laughed, and Lucy rolled her eyes, she had a habit of doing that.

"That was the stupidest story I've ever heard." She informed them.

Matt sighed, "There's no pleasing you, is there?"

Lucy smirked. "Nope."

"Well…" Matt stood up and stretched, "I'm going to take a shower." And with that he walked into the bathroom.

Anne then stood up too. "Me too." She headed for the bathroom.

"Anne!" Lucy scolded.

Anne cocked her head and jutted out a hip, "Oh come _on _Lucy, stopping being such a prude." And she too walked into the bathroom.

Brett began laughing.

Lucy whacked him with a pillow.

"Dude! That was not cool." Lucy whacked him again.

About hour an hour later, Lucy was getting bored, even with Brett in the room.

"Jeez, how long doe sit take?" Lucy sighed.

Brett shrugged.

A minute later accompanied to the sound of the shower was a muffled shriek and two loud thuds.

Brett jumped to his feet. "I'm going to go see what those two retards are doing." He too disappeared into the bathroom.

Lucy, rolling her eyes, turned on the TV. The plant in the corner rustling.

"_Edmund…revenge is all I ask for…"_

There was another loud thud.

Lucy looked at the clock, an hour had passed.

"You guys ok in there?" She called out. No one answered.

Slowly getting up, Lucy headed for the door. "Ok you guys, I'm comin' in, so if you're doing any freaky stuff in there, you better stop."

Lucy pushed open the door.

"_Edmund…"_ a faint noise, she could barely hear it, like a old forgotten whisper.

Inside the shower was still running, and they were all in there- their heads decapitated from their bodies, blood running down the drain.

Lucy jumped back out of the room, her hand covering her mouth. She was a very sensible person so she didn't scream, she quickly grabbed her purse and called the manager; she told him their stay was unsatisfactory, and he probably should call the cops.

Lucy quickly left, because she had seen too many horror movies for her own good and knew not to stick around, she didn't take the car but kept walking towards town, wanting to get away, to go home, somewhere safe, and she wanted to find out who had did this and what Edmund had to do with it.

"_Revenge for me, and for you…to…her…"_

* * *

The second Harry Potter book is finished! I hope you guys liked our retelling, like I said before, ending a book is sad, but I can't wait to start the third one! My favorite one! A **huge** thanks to all our reviews, and I'll see you in the Prisoner of Azkaban!

_**Siriusly**_


	16. Stupid Puberty

Hey, Merry Christmas everyone! (decks the hall with boughs of holly) Fa la la la la, la la la, LA! I'm really excited about starting the third book of the parody, since PoA is one of my (and Siriusly's) favorite books. And, since it's Christmas, and since we've finally got our 100th review, I'd like to give a huge shout out to AceGray, our 100th reviewer! And thanks for the nice review (I love nice reviews, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside). Well, enough waiting, here's the next chapter! And why not start it off with a little more Edmund...

That Loser

**Chapter 16: Stupid Puberty**

A vagrant breeze drifted through an open window, rustling the curtains and ruffling Lucy's brown hair. It sent loose papers dancing around the room, and pushed the open door shut with a dry click. Lucy was asleep facedown on a desk piled high with open books, newspapers, and articles, dead to the world and snoring faintly above the hum of her laptop. The muted TV illuminated the small cluttered apartment with an eerie blue glow. Suddenly, the thick silence was shattered by a chirpy beep. Lucy awoke with a snort, then groaned. She'd fallen asleep. Again.

Blinking furiously, she reached for a paper cup of black coffee, taking a huge gulp, then grimacing. Nothing like cold coffee. She rubbed her eyes smearing yesterday's makeup job, and checked the progress of her search on the laptop. Yes, a hit! She scrolled down through the police website, trying to keep from getting too excited. It had better not be another stupid ghost stories site. She had found out more about one of the previous owners of the bed & breakfast's experiences with a ghost llama than she ever wanted to know. And if she heard that folk song one more time…I mean, who writes a folk song about a ghost that murders people! Well…Londoners, apparently. As it turned out, Edmund was something of a local legend, and there were plenty of theory sites. Yep, plenty of people that claimed they saw the ghost of Edmund, but no facts, only dead-ends. And folk songs.

But this site looked promising, showing a compilation of articles and police notebooks about the strange murders in that house. Lucy scanned the list, her eyes narrowing. Edmund didn't seem to discriminate, there were all kinds of people on this list. Young, old, mostly women though. How sweet. Lucy snorted, diving into an article interviewing some old lady that lived next door to the house. Lucy slowly put down the coffee, her eyes flickering across the screen. This could be something.

A minute later, the chair legs scraped the ground and hurried footsteps pounded to the door. Keys jingled and the door slammed shut. The laptop continued to whirr, the cursor blinked idly after the words:

Eva Burnbaum, next-door neighbor of sixty years to the mysterious old Victorian, claims to have seen many strange sights living in the house across the street from the infamous estate. "I'm the only one that hears them whispers," says Burnbaum, 85, "They speaks of Edmund...and they speaks of revenge..."

* * *

"Look, Ms. Burnbaum, can't you tell me anything about Edmund?" Lucy was starting to get frustrated. She stood opposite a wizened old woman who was calmly weeding her garden. Lucy checked her watch. Two and a half hours of driving and one and a half cups of crappy coffee after hurrying out of the house, the last thing she needed was another story about Eva Burnbaum's husband Albert, or her tomato farm, or her complaints about her new doctor. "I really appreciate your time, and now, yes thank you, I feel very informed on Social Security and the decline of today's youth, but could you please tell me about _Edmund_!"

The woman shrugged, pulling dirt covered garden gloves off of her slightly shaking hands. "Edmund. The murderin ghost in that there house. I've lived in this house fer sixty years, and I seen it all. There' somethin restless in that house.." She stared off toward the old Victorian thoughtfully.

Lucy cleared her throat, "Um, yeah. Is there anything else?"

"It was all his fault," she said, still staring at the house, "and she ne'er forgave him. And then, of course, it all went sour."

Lucy leaned in closer, "Never forgave him for what?"

Eva Burnbaum suddenly turned toward Lucy, her ancient clouded eyes blazing, "_For running away with...that…loser!"_

* * *

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of the year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework, but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard, and not just any wizard, but a wizard that was in love with mops and he was a loser.

We join our hero at three o' clock at night, curled under his covers with his wand, The Many Uses of Gillyweed, and his favorite mop since he was five. Its name was Teddy. Don't ask.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, and the tip of his wand glowed dully under the sheets. Though, as it turned out, Harry was extremely lucky that the witch in charge of monitoring under-age magic had just finished her coffee break and had bladder control issues, or he would have been expelled faster than…well, than a lot of things. Faster than Petunia can latch onto gossip, faster than Dudley could be confused for a blonde pig, faster than Harry can do something stupid to make people think he's a loser (but only just, Harry works fast).

"HARRY! YOU'D BETTER NOT BE READING _THOSE BOOKS_ AGAIN!"

The floorboards creaked under the considerable weight of Uncle Vernon as he lumbered down the hallway toward Harry's room. Harry quickly shut the book, although he wasn't that disappointed about it really, since, come on, when would he ever have to remember anything about a plant that allows someone to breathe underwater anyway?

It was then, of course, that he suddenly realized that he didn't know the spell to turn off the light. Harry whacked his wand against the book. "Um..._Unlumos! _Uh…_Stop-Lumos!_" The handle of his bedroom door turned and Harry quickly shoved the wand under his pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to look like he was sleeping as Vernon surveyed the room with narrowed eyes. It was only after he heard the click of the door closing that Harry realized he had been holding his breath. Exhaling slowly, he opened his eyes.

Of course, like many of the things that brought him joy, the privilege of doing his homework was taken away from him when the Dursleys figured out that he actually liked it. Doing homework in the middle of the night was a pain but, according to Hermione's letters, he was going to need the head start for next year's classes. The letters he got from Ron and Hermione were really the only good part about staying at Privet Drive. Well, sure Hermione's letters were as thick as a good-sized novel and Ron misspelled everything, but it was the thought that counts, right?

Harry rolled over and smiled, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. "I have the best friends in the world," said Harry to his alarm clock. Lately, since Harry preferred staying in his room rather than joining the Dursleys downstairs, he started talking to random objects in his bedroom. Sure they never answered back, but it was better than no one, right?

As Harry was drifting off to sleep, a last thought swam behind his closed eyelids "_Oh, tomorrow's my birthday…and Aunt Marge is coming over. Great, some guys just get all the luck…oh well, Happy Almost-Birthday To Me…"_

* * *

"You know Hedwig, you're not looking so good ever since you came back from your vacation. Are you alright?" It was the morning of his birthday, and Harry sat talking to Hedwig, who was dead and rotting in her cage. Her headstone read "RIP; here lies Hedwig, the unfortunate pet of some loser who just can't let go…"

"I mean, I know we had some issues there when I couldn't feed you for a few weeks, but we pulled through it together, right Buddy?" Harry smiled happily, convinced that he had the best owl ever.

Hedwig continued to rot, oblivious to Harry…and well, pretty much oblivious to everything, really.

"Yep, I-hey, I must have a letter from one of my friends!" said Harry with slightly embarrassing enthusiasm to his extremely outdated wallpaper as an owl rapped on his window, struggling with a large package. "It must be from Hermione!" He took the package, but before he could open it, another owl flew straight into the glass. The owl was disheveled, missing chunks of hair, and slightly cross-eyed. "It must be from Ron!" Another owl, this one clean and well kept fluttered through the window, dropped a piece of parchment, and left.

Harry reached for the parchment first. It was a permission slip from Hogwarts that would let him go to Hogsmeade. Harry had been hearing about Hogsmeade for the last two years from Fred and George, and even if it was half as good as the stories, Harry couldn't' wait to go there. But would Uncle Vernon sign the papers?

He opened Hermione's package next. A heavy book fell out, and Harry picked it up questioningly. "Controlling Your Feelings Around Unwanted Houseguests ? What…I've…I've got presents? Oh my gosh, I never thought this day would come! HEY DURSLEYS!" Harry shouted downstairs, "GUESS WHAT, I'VE GOT PRESENTS!" There was no way the Dursleys could ruin this!

"FUNNY, I GUESS WEREN'T IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO RECEIVE PRESENTS LAST YEAR, EH HARRY?" Vernon yelled back.

Harry deflated a little. Oh yeah. Hey, wait, yeah! Why hadn't they sent him presents last year! Harry grabbed at a note attached to the book, a little frustrated.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! I'm not sure exactly why I chose this book since I have no idea if you'll have to use it anytime in the near future. However, one can only hope for a chance to show good manners around a guest!_

Harry snickered. Yeah, right. "Oh yeah, Aunt Marge is coming over...maybe this book could be helpful. What do you think dirty socks?" Although they didn't say anything, Harry was sure that they secretly agreed. He looked back at the note with renewed interest.

_I hope you're doing your homework, it's very important you know. All right, well, I'll see you at the start of the semester. Oh, and Harry, let's try not to get into any trouble this year. As far as I know, this year is going to be perfectly normal, so we shouldn't have any problems staying inside the rules this year, right? Nothing can go wrong this year!_

_Cordially,_

_Hermione_

"Hmmm…" Harry stared at the book, "Thanks Hermione. Now Ron's."

Harry ripped open the paper to reveal a small red bulb attached to a bunch of wires. The minute he touched it, the light bulb lit up and a siren wailed. Harry, surprised, dropped the thing and tore open the note Ron had left with the present.

_Hey Harry, do you like it? It's a Mini Harry Alarm, all you loved about the original, but now a convenient portable travel size. Cool huh? Now you can take it with you anywhere you go and you'll know when there's danger, and evil, and stuff. Oh, yeah, Happy Birthday! Yeah…well, that's about it._

_Later,_

_Ron_

Harry smiled, and was about to put away the note when he noticed a bit more writing at the end.

_PS-Hey, Hagrid told me to give you something for him. Errol's got it, so I figure you've got about a fifty-fifty chance at getting it delivered. Hope you got it! ...but of course if you didn't get it then you wouldn't be reading this message...and if you aren't reading this message, then who am I writing too! And if I'm talking to no one, then I'm going mental like my mum! Later Harry, I've just confused myself again. _

Harry laughed, Ron…ever the clueless one. Oh yeah, he said something about a present from Hagrid. Harry grabbed Errol, but he didn't see any other packages. He picked up Errol and shook him up and down…aha! Harry tossed aside the disoriented owl, which landed with a whoomph and an explosion of feathers. Harry ripped open the package to reveal another book.

"Surviving a Werewolf Encounter. Honestly, when am I ever going to use this stuff?" Harry rolled his eyes and dropped the book in his trunk. "So what did you get me for my birthday Lampshade?" The lampshade sat in a silence that was decisively…lampshady. Harry sniffed at it, "Well fine, I…I never liked you either!"

**

* * *

**

"And it's going to be a wet summer night, highs in the mid 60s, lows in the lower 50s. And now, more on the developments in the search for known murderer Sirius Black." The TV droned on downstairs while Harry sat on his bed, reading the book Hermione had given him. But, since Hermione had picked it out, it was a little dull and Harry was getting bored. He laid back and listened to the news downstairs.

"-Black was seen leaving the scene of the murders. However, there are no new developments in the case. Police are baffled.

'I saw him go in, but when we followed him there was no one there, only some dog.'

Wanted posters with Black's picture have been posted around the city. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Black, please call this close to toll-free number."

Harry was marginally interested. A murderer? Hey wait…Sirius Black, why did that sound familiar?

But before Harry could put two and two together (he never had been that good at math), the next story was playing on the television.

"And today we saw another appearance from El Lupo in the courthouse square here in Surrey. Sidney Sikes of ABCDEFG 86 reports live on the scene. Sidney?"

"Thanks, Adolph. Here in Surrey a few hours ago, the famous masked hero El Lupo incited the people to practice civil disobedience in their fight to save the trees. Like GhandiMan before him, El Lupo fights for the people. I interviewed a few people involved in the peaceful protest earlier."

'El Lupo was styling this absolutely fabulous look. He was wearing a black cape and hat ensemble and daringly accessorized with a flirty black mask and a sword to add a little sparkle.'

'El Lupo is The People's hero!…though I'm not sure who The People are exactly, but they're definitely lucky to have such a great hero!'

'I think El Lupo's moustache is hot.'

'I admire his spelling abilities. I mean, he carves an L into a wall like everywhere he goes! That's talent! Someone should totally give him his own sitcom…'

'Then El Lupo was all like…Justice!…and his sword was all like…scratch scratch scratch…and then the wall was all like…L…and then the people were all like…yay…and then the mayor was all like…stop defacing public property!…and then El Lupo was all like…gone. Yeah, it was aaaaaaaawesome. You wanna hear the play by play again?'

"Obviously, whoever El Lupo is, he's made a great impression on the hearts of the people…as well as on out walls. This is Sidney Sikes, reporting."

"Thanks Sidney. Well, that's about all for tonight. You can catch the news tomorrow at 8. Until then, I'm Adolph Hitler, and my moustache and I wish you a safe and pleasant night."

Harry frowned. El Lupo? I wonder what that's all about…

"HARRY, MARGE IS HERE! GET YOUR CARCASS DOWN HERE AND SAY HELLO TO YOUR FAVORITE AUNTIE!" Vernon bellowed from downstairs.

Harry sighed. Great, and he was having such a good time. Oh well, time to go face the music.

**

* * *

**

"Oh, let me have a look at you. My my, you're growing into a wonderful young man, and you look so much like your parents. You've definitely got your mother's eyes, but you look so much like your father. Isn't that right, my favorite little nephew?"

"That's right!" chirped Dudley. Aunt Marge pinched his fatty cheeks.

"Too bad Harry didn't inherit the Dursley side's good looks." Marge and Dudley looked over their shoulders and snickered at Harry.

Harry glowered as Aunt Marge showered compliments on his bullying cousin Dudley, while she completely ignored, and even insulted Harry. Aunt Marge was a rather obese woman with poofy blonde hair and a rather pronounced moustache. Creepy. She wore way to much jewelry, so when she walked, she waddled as well as jingled.

Harry stopped to consider to evil people in his life here with the Dursleys. You know...they all had moustaches. Aunt Marge, Vernon, even Dudley was starting to spout one. Moustaches, the true sign of EVIL!

This was a nightmare! Whoa Harry, calm down…think about that self help book Hermione sent. Yeah! Harry, who happened to be carrying the book with him, pulled it out and turned to the first chapter.

"Ok," he thought, "lets see, page 31. 'Control your feelings toward the other person. Think about all the nice times you've had together.'" As the screen got all wavy in the signature look of a flashback, Harry pondered the other times Aunt Marge had come over….

---------------

"_That_ is what you took in. Oh Petunia, it's bad blood, bad…OUCH…it bit me!"

"Happy Easter Dudleykins! I know how much you love these little chocolate bunnies! Oh, and here's yours, Henry. I hope you like soy cubes."

"Henry-"

"-it Harry, actually, Aunt Marge."

"Whatever. Henry?"

Sigh, "Yes, Aunt Marge?"

"Move, you're blocking the turkey."

--------------

Oh yeah…she's always been this way. Harry felt his face turning bright red, and the veins in his neck standing out. It was time to-

"Dinner time! Marge, Vernon, Dudley…_Harry…_"

Marge and Dudley went straight into the dinning room, still laughing at Harry. Harry, having suddenly developed a horrible temper, stomped into the next room.

Of course no one thought it was strange that Harry, who had been so even tempered and pretty much a doormat before this suddenly grew a bad temper. Oh well, chalk it up to puberty. Isn't it weird how everything gets blamed on puberty? I mean really: He has a horrible personality, oh well, it must be puberty. Her horrible ugliness haunts me in my worst nightmares…oh well, it must be puberty. He really is a loser…oh well, it must be…no wait, he's always been that way. Oh, never mind.

**

* * *

**

"Yes, well, my little Dudleykins is going to Smeltings this year. We're very proud." Petunia hugged Dudley, and Vernon glowed like the largest, proudest beet in the world. Harry hunched down in his seat, his arms crossed. He knew what was coming next.

"And where are you sending the…loser …this year?" Aunt Marge sniffed as she gestured in his direction.

Vernon's face reddened a little, as it always did whenever Harry was mentioned. Petunia suddenly jumped up. "Vernon, that's the exact color I want to paint the family room! Hold it right there." She disappeared for a few seconds, then came back with an easel and paints wearing a beret and sporting a curly black moustache.

"A moustache! It is THE TRUE SIGN OF EVIL!" screamed Harry. He suddenly gasped and started to speak to himself. Everyone else sat around awkwardly, waiting for the monologue to be over. "Oh no, I've never gotten stuck on caps lock before! And I'm not usually one to overuse exclamation points! It must be puberty. STUPID PUBERTY! Oh! I mean, uh, stupid puberty."

"That's right, Vernon, hold that color!" said Petunia with a fake French accent, busily mixing colors.

"Vernon, if you can't control that boy, then send him away from the table. His outbursts are giving me a headache." Marge glared at Harry.

Harry starting breathing deeply, his face getting red. A window in the family room burst open; the curtains were whipped about in what had suddenly become a hurricane force wind.

Vernon's face darkened a shade.

"Vernon! You've destroyed my paint color!" Petunia sighed. "Oh well, I guess its back to being somewhere between Retro Rot and Surgical Blue…or did you think Canned Milk was more our style?"

Vernon ignored his wife. "Look, Margie, I'm very sorry about the boy. We've been trying to pound some sense into him by sending him to St. Betteryourself: The School for Loser Children, hoping they could make him less of a loser."

Harry clenched his teeth, and for some reason, a lightbulb in the kitchen shattered.

Marge ignored it, while Vernon looked questioningly at Harry. "Well it's about time! I mean, even a few years ago I would have just put down his loser behavior as puberty, but now he really does need serious help."

Harry closed his eyes, fighting for control of his temper. Remember the book…he quickly pulled in out and flipped to page 52, 'No one likes being put down or having their ideals trampled…directly attack the aggressor-'. Wait…directly attack the aggressor? "Oh well", thought Harry, "if it's in the book, it must be right!"

Harry took a deep breath and fixed all of the anger and rebellion and angst in his teenage heart on Aunt Marge.

**

* * *

**

Nothing happened at first, but after a few seconds it was undeniable that Marge looked a little bit…heavier than she used to. A few more seconds and she no longer fit into her chair. Within the next few minutes, her neck was so large that the string of necklace snapped.

"Vernon? Vernon! What is going on! What is-AAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!" Marge had finally noticed that there was something wrong, and while the Dursleys scrambled to stop her…inflation, Harry sat in his chair feeling something between satisfaction and horror. He didn't even know he could do that! This couldn't be right! He went back to the book:

'This is an example of what NOT to do in a situation like that. You should in by no means directly attack the aggressor, but show them kind consideration.' Oh great.

It was only when, contrary to the law of gravity, that she started to float away like a balloon that Harry started to find the situation a little comical. I mean, scientifically speaking, if she were getting fatter and fatter, wouldn't she be less inclined to float away? Or was she just filling with air like a giant balloon? Uncle Vernon and Dudley, no weight loss models themselves, started to chase Marge across the yard as she flew higher and higher and grew farther away.

Although blowing up like a balloon would have been enough to reduce anyone to screaming, it turned out Marge must have had a little kid in her somewhere waiting to get out, because she didn't seem the least bit worried.

"Freedom! FREEDOM! Wahooo! No more diets! No more cleaning! No more Laundromats! No more traffic! No more telemarketers! Haha! Life is GOOD! Thank you loser boy!"

"No Marge, come back!" Vernon called after her, "You still owe me money!"

And where was Harry during all of this? Packing. He was packing because he knew that the second Uncle Vernon got back, he would blame Harry for the whole thing. True, it was his fault, but he didn't want to be around when his uncle was on an angry rampage, looking for a Harry-sized punching bag.

"Then there's only one thing left to do," thought Harry, "I'll run away." He hastily dumped the contents of his trunk into a handkerchief and tied it onto a stick. He also put on a hat, a ratty scarf, and a pair of gloves with the fingers cut out.

"Well," he said to no one in particular, "I'm out to join the hobos and live life one train at a time."

Hey, that actually sounded pretty good. Yeah! One train at a time…

**

* * *

**

Harry walked alone in the train yard in the middle of the night, carrying his sole possessions in the world on his back, waiting for a train. Well, technically on a stick on his back, but you get the idea.

Soon enough, lights appeared on the horizon, and Harry crouched down low in the long dewy grass, so he wouldn't be spotted, feeling his pants getting soaked. Just as the train passed by, Harry sprung from his hiding place and grabbed onto a convenient handle on one of the boxcars. Luckily it wasn't going that fast, or The Boy Who Lived, would have very shortly been The Boy Who Didn't Live Trying To Jump Aboard A Moving Train. Fighting the centrifugal force of the moving train, Harry inched his way along the side until he could pull open a boxcar door and throw himself inside.

The inside of the boxcar was almost completely dark except for moonlight shining through the cracks in the wooden slats of the walls. It smelled of old hay, burning rubber, and…beans?

"Oy, you!" A voice shouted into his ear.

Harry was surprised. "AHHHHHHHH!"

He turned around to see a slightly hunchbacked old man with a scraggly beard and personal hygiene issues. He wore a filthy skunk pelt hat. A real hobo! He squinted at Harry, "Wot'r you doin here? This here's a full car, yeah. We don't got no room. Shove off!"

"Now, Pete, let's 'ear wot he as to say!" said another hobo emerging from the darkness. This one was younger with a mop of matted blonde hair and a kind, if somewhat appallingly yellow, smile.

"Oh no, no I ain't gonna take on another one Good 'Ol Frankie, no sirree!"

"Come on Pete, give 'im a chance. What'd y'all say?" said the hobo called Good 'Ol Frankie.

"Yeah!"

"Oy!"

"Aye!"

"Boots!"

"Wait…wait…I got me specs here somewhere!"

"Aye!"

"**Let him speak**

**Don't take a week!**"

Good 'Ol Frankie smiled, "Yes, thanks for the rhyme, Tunes."

"Welcome," said a voice from back in the darkness.

Harry was getting excited. "Um, excuse me, but…who are those people? And who are you?"

"Come on out gents…and Nannie," said Good 'Ol Frankie. "Well, I'm Good 'Ol Frankie. Hello." Frankie smiled again and waved, "And that's our leader, Peter the Skunk."

The old hobo with the skunk hat looked at Harry, then spit into the corner.

Suddenly, a large group of hobos came out of the shadows to wave, or at least wheeze in Harry's general direction.

"That's Tunes." Frankie pointed to a man with a lazy eye holding an old, dust covered accordion.

"Yo!" he said cheerfully.

"And there's Toothless Nannie."

"Aye!" said a sour-faced old woman with, as her name suggests, no teeth.

"And that's That One Bloke. 'Ello Bloke."

That One Bloke made a gargling noise.

"He don't talk much," whispered Frankie into Harry's ear.

"Oh," said Harry. He stared at the rest of the hobos, in all of the unwashed, unkempt glory. "There are so many of you."

Peter the Skunk butted in, "Weeeell, this's all been just loverly, but who're you?"

"Oh, well, I'm Harry, Harry…" Harry stopped. What if one of them was a wizard? Should he tell them his name? "…Harry…" he searched around desperately for some inspiration. "…Harry…Accordion."

"Harry Accordion?" said Peter the Skunk skeptically.

"I meant…Harry…Boot."

"Boots?"

"Where's the boots!"

"I wants my share!"

The hobos went wild, pushing and shoving each other. One even started to gnaw at Harry's shoes.

"Hey, geroff!"

"Gents, gents, calm down!" Frankie raised a hand.

Peter the Skunk glared at Frankie.

"Oh, sorry Pete."

Harry turned back to Frankie, "But I don't get it, what's so great about boots?"

The hobos all stopped the activity to stare at Harry in disbelief. "What's so great about boots!" said Frankie, laughing, "What isn't great about boots? There's good eatin' on a boot."

Tunes licked his lips, "**Gimme somethin' good to eat**

**Gimme boots, so tasty sweet…**"

"Enough!" shouted Peter the Skunk, "You gotta leave. Gettin us all riled up, an' sounding a false alarm fer boots. You ain't stayin!"

"Oh, come now Pete," said Frankie.

"This train ain't big enough fer the twenty of us!" said Peter the Skunk.

"It's not big 'nough fer the nineteen 'o us neither," admitted Good 'Ol Frankie good-naturedly.

"That'd make a great song! Me accordion purlease!" Tunes grabbed the instrument and That One Bloke gargled along in song.

**This train ain't big enough fer the nineteen 'o us!**

**Let's figger this 'un out and stop this fuss!**

**So let's all discuss this o'er a boot**

**And figger out a tune to toot!**

"Toot toot!" bellowed the chorus of Hobos.

"Did someone say boots?" shouted Toothless Nannie from the back of the train.

The boxcar erupted in frenzy. Harry was pushed out of the open door by the mob of hungry hobos, and he fell off of the train, down down down into the night.

**

* * *

**

When Harry regained consciousness, he found out that he was still very much alive. He was quite certain last night as he was falling that by today he would be The Boy Who Didn't Live After Being Pushed Off Of A Moving Train By A Group Of Boot-Loving Hobos. He was glad that wasn't how it ended, since that would have been extremely expensive to carve on a headstone.

He sat up and looked around. Hey, he was right outside of Privet Drive! All that trouble and he wasn't even five miles away from the Dursleys. He was about to get up when he saw something _move _in the shadow across the street. It looked like a huge black dog, its eyes gleamed red in the darkness. In his pocket, the Mini Harry Alarm went off. Wait, a big black dog? Something seemed extremely familiar here. Black…dog…Sirius…the dog star…Sirius…Black…Sirius Black…black dog? Harry knew he was on the verge of something terribly important, but before he could figure it out, a purple double-decker bus shot down Privet Drive and rocked to a halt right in front of him. The side was decorated with the name _The Knight Bus_ in scrolling letters. The dog scampered off.

What was this bus doing here? Harry didn't much care, as long as it got him away from the dog with the glowing red eyes. And although he didn't know who or what yet, he did know that there was something sinister lurking in the shadows.

**

* * *

**

**_Oddly_**


	17. Something Wicked

That Loser

**Chapter 17: Something Wicked**

A skinny ruddy-faced lad, with dark dirty hair pranced out of the mysterious _Knight Bus_; he appeared to have only just graduated from Hogwarts. His whole persona screamed sarcasm as cleared his throat and quickly said a presentation in a bored fashion that he had seemed to have said many times before.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—"

The conductor stopped suddenly, have just caught a glance at Harry, still sitting on the ground in his hobo attire. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and attempted to lift his truck off his left leg. His right pant of his jeans were ripped open and his hands stung from breaking his fall.

"Whatcha ya doin' down there?" Stan had quickly latched onto something interesting; standing over Harry with his bright purple uniform, blending into the background of the bus.

"I-uh, fell over."

"Well whatcha fall for?"

Harry frowned; it had taken him two years in the wizarding world to know that you didn't tell people you saw strange objects in the bushes.

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"Then whatcha do it for then?"

They stared at each other blankly for a couple seconds.

"Does this thing go anywhere?" Harry changed the subject.

"Yep." Stan beamed proudly, "anyfing on land. Look—you did wave us down, didn't ya? Put your wand out—and—"

"Yes." Said Harry quickly, determining this to be the perfect plan to get away from Privet Drive. "How much to London?"

"Eleven Sickles, for firteen you get a 'ot chocolate, for fifteen you get a 'ot water bottle and a tooth brush in any color of your choice, for sicteen you get a bedtime story read to ya' and for eighteen you get tucked-in and a nightlight in the shape of your choice: an wabbit, bear, uniycorn, or dragon—"

Harry hurriedly pushed eleven Sickles into his hand and boarded the double-decker bus. There were no seats on the inside of the bus, instead about half a dozen brass beds with little end tables and candles; sitting beside curtained windows.

Stan hustled Harry past two other sleeping occupants carrying Harry's trunk, bashing into the ends of the beds, and rattling the people sleeping.

"You 'ave this un." He whispered to Harry as they stopped at a bed, then heavily dropped his trunk on the ground. He turned around and gestured to the driver, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is…" Stan paused, and turned to look at Harry again.

"I never caught your name."

"Uh….Snoop Dog." Saying the first name that popped into his head.

Another awkward silence.

"This is Snoop Dog, Ern." Ernie nodded at Harry.

"Yo."

"Take 'er away Ern." Stan continued and sat down in an armchair located next to the one Ernie was sitting in.

With a tremendous BANG Harry was thrown backwards upon his bed, from the speed of the _Knight Bus_.

Stan frowned, looking over at him. "Woss on your head?"

Harry nervously patted down his bangs. "N-nothing"

But before he could investigate further, the_ Knight Bus_ had rolled to a stop, someone was getting off.

"Here, let me help ya, Madam Marsh." Stan had a hold on the elbow of an old elderly witch, He dragged her to the door and pushed her down the stairs, he then hurled her bag out after her, followed by her wheelchair.

The doors rammed shut and with another BANG, the _Knight Bus_ raced off, Harry noticing lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumping out of the way as the bus steered all over.

"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" Harry questioned aloud.

"Them!" Stan rolled his eyes. "They don't listen, do they? Never look properly either, notice nuffink, they do. So—where did ya say ya were headin' Snoop?"

"The Leaky Cauldron…that's in London."

"London!" Stan exclaimed in false surprise. "You hear that? It's in London!" He rolled his eyes again and unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, a large picture of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair cackled as he played with sock puppets on the front cover. He looked strangely familiar…

(Scene fades in slowly, turns black and white, start flash-back music)

"_Bark."_

"_JAMES I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT AROUND HARRY! IT CONFUSES HIM!"_

"_Sorry Lily."_

(Fade back in to the _Knight Bus_.)

"That man, he was on the Muggle news!"

Stanley turned the paper and chuckled. "Sirius Black, 'course he was on the Muggle news, Snoop, where ya been?"

He chuckled again at the blank look on Harry's face and handed the paper to him. "You oughta read the paper more, Snoop."

**BLACK STILL AT LARGE**

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today._

"_We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."_

_Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

"_Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it-who'd believe him if he did?"_

_While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

Harry looked back at the picture of Black, into the shadowed eyes, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. With his long messy hair and waxy white skin, Black looked just like the vampires Harry had seen in the pictures of his Defense Against the Dark Arts books.

"Scary lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, as he reached for the paper after Harry had finished it.

"He murdered _thirteen_ people? With _one _curse?"

"Yep." said Stan. "In front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight, big trouble it caused. You see, Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo, very close to You-Know-Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-Oo, all of You-Know-Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it woz all over wiv You-Know-Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought he'd be second in command once You-Know-Oo 'ad taken over. Anyways, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? Ah you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" said Harry.

"_Laughed._" Said Stan, "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv them as quiet as anyfink, still laughin' is head off. 'Cos he's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," said Ernie slowly, " I'd blow myself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you…after what he did…"

"They had a job coverin' in up, wiv 'ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. Said it woz a gas explosion. An' now he's out, never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me how he did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy his chances against those Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

"Talk about summat else, Stan, them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan nodded, raising a teacup to his mouth. "It's some crazy world we live in."

"To the Queen!" Ernie agreed.

Slurp. Toss. Crash.

Harry himself had also broken the wizarding law, but was it enough to land him in Azkaban? The sooner he got to Diagon Alley, the better. He would have to live in exile, go to Gringotts then don a disguise. Grow a mustache and some mutton chops. Foundation could help too—no scar, colored contacts, maybe? No, his eyes were bluebrownhazelgreengrey anyways—maybe some platform shoes, and an accent.

Ern suddenly slammed on the brakes, they pulled up to a stop, and Harry looked out a window, noticing the Leaky Cauldron. This was his stop.

Harry quickly jumped down the steps of the bus and reached back to lug his trunk after him.

"Well," Said Harry, not knowing how to say goodbye. "For shizzal my nizzal."

"Word." Ernie threw some gangsta signs.

And Harry turned around, then stopped in his tracks, because standing in the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron, was none other than the Minister of Magic.

"_There_ you are, Harry."

Harry stared up at Fudge, green-lucky-charm-bowler hat and all.

Stan was suddenly beside them. "What didja call Snoop, Minister?" he questioned excitedly.

"Snoop? No, this is Harry Potter."

"HARRY POTTER?" a cry was heard from the second story of the double-decker bus, and multiple teenage girls came running out, dressed in outfits with various pictures of Harry's face on them.

"You told me the Harry Hunting wasn't happening until tomorrow!" The leader of the group jabbed Stanley with a pair of binoculars.

…

"Well…we best be going now…Harry come along." The Minister began leading Harry inside.

"No! Harry wait! Sign my bra!"

"Marry me, Harry! Marry me!"

"WE LOVE YOU HARRY!"

The voices were abruptly cut off as the Leaky Cauldron's door was slammed close behind them.

Tom the bartender unexpectedly appeared, having unexplainably turned into a hunchback from the time Harry had last seen him in his first year.

"You've got him, Minister!" he cackled. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

Harry raised a hand. "Scotch—"

"Tea, perhaps..." Fudge waved him away. "I will need a private parlor, please, Tom."

Tom quickly beckoned them towards a passage on the right, then into a small parlor. It included a fireplace, desk, a small table and a couple of chairs.

"Sit down, Harry." said Fudge, indicating to a chair by the fire.

Harry sat, and watched Fudge remove his striped coat, revealing a bottle-green three piece suit, he moved to the desk. Tom reappeared, wearing a frilly pink apron and bearing trays of tea and snacks. Then proceeded to shove every sample of food into Harry's mouth.

"I-I'm good—!" Harry choked on a crumpet as Tom smeared it against his face.

Tom then left the parlor, bowing out of the room.

"Well, Harry." said Fudge, now sitting behind the desk. "You've had us all a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think the leprechauns had got you, or…but you're safe, and that's what matters."

Harry spat out some crumbs.

"Ahem. Now then…you'll be pleased to hear that we dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley, she has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that and no harm done."

Harry was still too amazed nothing had happened to him—and trying to clear his throat be attempted to speak.

Fudge nervously eyed the corners of the room, unconsciously stroking a lime green shamrock.

"Well Harry…I have lots to do…people to see… leprechauns to knock off…So all that remains is to decide where you're going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron—"

"But what about my punishment?" Harry cut in.

Fudge seemed confused. "Punishment?"

"I broke the law! The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that! It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

Harry frowned, "Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house! The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"

Fudge was suddenly looking awkward. "Circumstances change, Harry…we have to take into account…in the present climate…with characters like El Lupo out there…well, we don't want you dropping out of school and growing a mustache…Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course not."

Fudge smiled, stood up then moved over to fetch his cloak. "Well then what's all the fuss about? Room eleven's free, Harry. All I'm asking is for you to stay in Diagon Alley." He grabbed the door handle. "Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me."

"Okay." Said Harry slowly, standing up too. It was strangle, was it usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved with matters in underage magic?

"I'll be off, plenty to, you know, do…leprechauns…to…torture—"

"Have you had any luck with Black?" Harry asked.

"WHAT?" Fudge screeched. "Erm, um, no. But the Azkaban guards have never failed yet, and with them working double time with this El Lupo person…I'm sure we'll see results…soon." He hesitantly smiled. "Enjoy your stay, Harry." And with that, he was gone.

"If you'll follow me, Mr. Potter," Tom suddenly appeared again. "I've already taken your things up…"

Harry followed Tom out of the back hallway, up a wooden staircase and to a door with a brass number eleven on it. He unlocked it and opened it for him.

Inside was the normal blood-and-mysterious-substance stained bed, some dinged up fake oak furniture, and on top of the wardrobe, an owl cage.

"Hedwig!" Harry gasped.

"Yes…" said Tom, sounding concerned, "I've been meaning to ask you about that. It appears that—"

"Isn't she a smart little owl?" Harry cooed. "Found her way all on her own!"

"No—sir, I pretty sure she has died."

"No!" Harry cried, amid the rotten smells and tiny owl casket 'RIP' scrolled in fancy white letters across it. "She's resting!"

"She's not moving-"

"HEDWIG IS TIRED AFTER HER JOURNEY!"

"Yeah…um. If there's anything else you need, the direction to Eeylops Owl Emporium for example, don't hesitate to ask."

He gave another bow and left.

Harry sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Confused about the half answered questions, and happy about the Dursley-free weeks ahead of him.

"Night, Hedwig." He called.

Then after battling the mysterious fungi-like plant growing around the bedpost, Harry finally flung open the covers and fell asleep.

"_Here…here…Edmund…I've found him…"_

* * *

Harry spent the next couple of weeks in bliss. It was rare that he had ever had this much freedom, and it took him a while to realize that he could eat when he wanted, what he wanted, and as much as he wanted.

But for some odd reason, Hedwig was feeling under the weather, so Harry couldn't send Ron or Hermione any messages of where he was at. So he figured that he would meet up with them in Diagon Alley when they went to get school supplies, and if all else failed, he would at least see them on the Hogwarts Express.

Over the next couple of days while he was waiting, Harry did the rest of his homework out in the sun, eating ice cream. He also saw a couple of his fellow Gryffindor's; Neville, being pulled by the ear into Flourish and Blotts by his grandmother, Oliver, introducing him to his mother, and going over tactics for the up-coming Quidditch season, and Seamus and Dean goggling at a showcase inside of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

In fact, it was their lack-jawed expressions that made Harry go over and take a look to see what all the fuss was about, wondering to himself why he didn't check it out earlier.

And then Harry saw it, what he had been missing this whole time, doing silly things like homework and eating. On a newly erected podium was the most magnificent broomstick Harry had ever seen in his entire life. And next to it, a sign:

_**The Firebolt**_

**This stat-of-the-art racing broom sports a stream-lined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving _The Firebolt_ unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. _The Firebolt_ has an acceleration of 150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable Breaking Charm. Price: your first born.**

Price on request. Harry didn't want to think about how much gold it would cost him to buy that, but that didn't stop him from coming back everyday to stare at it.

* * *

A week later, and two days before Harry was to board the Hogwarts Express, Harry decided to get his school supplies, Hermione and Ron hadn't shown yet, and there we things he needed to buy.

First stop was Flourish and Blotts, Harry need: Intermediate Transfiguration, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three, and two others for his two new classes, Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures: Unfogging the Future and The Monster Book of Monsters.

Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three were easy enough to find, but Unfogging the Future was all the way in the back, past beaded curtains and incense candles. He found it on a small round table surrounded by a glass ball and other similar books; like: Prediction: How to Gamble on Horse Races, Dirty Gypsies; Funky Smells and Funky Prophecies, and Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming.

The last one caught his attention, the cover showed a big black dog, like a small bear, it looked just like that thing he had seen right before he had gotten on the _Knight Bus_. Could it have been a death omen?

"This could be serious…"

A bookcase away…

"Sirius? That's me! Here I am!" a strange frumpy-looking man with matted hair and dirty clothes popped up out of the blue. He looked around quickly. "Oh, yeah…um…right…not until a couple more chapters…" he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

* * *

With three books in his hands, Harry made his way to the front of the store; he just couldn't seem to find the last one.

"Excuse me-"

The manager looked up at Harry. "You're Harry Potter!" he gasped.

"Yes—"

"You look just like your father! But…you have your mother's…" he paused, looking confused.

"Oh, yeah sorry—" Harry quickly turned around and put in his green contacts.

"Ah…yeah…so what is it you need?"

"The Monster Book of Monsters, is it in stock?"

The man behind the counter paled, then groaned, putting on a pair of very thick gloves and picking up a large knobby walking stick; he made his way towards a cage in the front window-it appeared to be holding…books.

A loud ripping noise suddenly tore through the room, The Monster Books of Monsters were moving around, fighting. A couple had ganged up on one and was playing tug-o-war with it.

"AHH!" The man pulled his hand out of the cage, a book biting on his fingers. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"That one's cover is ripped. I want a different one." He commanded.

Grumbling to himself, the man threw the book he just received down on the floor and made his way to the cage again.

"Look! There's pages missing! No, that just won't do."

"That has bent corners."

"Uh! The letters on the cover are peeling!"

"Well…to tell you the truth, I just get a bad jibe from that one."

By the time Harry deemed a book satisfactory, the place was crawling with The Monster Book of Monsters.

Harry slowly side-stepped out of the way of the crab-crawling books, then made his way over to pay for his textbooks.

"Will that be all?" The cashier glared at Harry as he grabbed his sack of books.

"Yes," Harry assured him; then paused to stare at a bite from the 'Monster' books on the guy's arm. "You should get that checked out, it looks serious."

"AHHA! Someone called my name!" The same strange man from before popped up, then looked around at the crawling books. "Maybe I should go…"

* * *

The next day was Harry's last day of freedom, it would be a little sad for him to leave it behind, but he couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts. But there was one thing he had to do before he could pack…

"I know we haven't spent as much time together as we'd both have liked too. I curse fate everyday, thinking of all those years without you. I'll think of you always, you know, when I'm gone. Oh…don't look at me like that, I have to leave. I'll write…oh, please don't cry…I'll always love you, even when I'm far away…goodbye…"

Harry turned to leave, hesitated, then turned back and flung himself to it, squeezing it in a hug.

"Oh who am I kidding! I love you, I'll never leave you! NEVER! THEY CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE YOU!"

A sign next to him had been knocked face-down on the floor. **'DON'T TOUCH THE MODEL.'**

"Harry! What are you doing?"

Harry looked up from his passionate embrace on the Firebolt, that had sounded like…

"Hermione? Ron?"

Ron and Hermione stood inside the shop, Ron grinning, more freakley than Harry last remembered him, and Hermione smiling at him, looking browner than he remembered too.

"Finally!" Ron said as Harry slowly and sadly peeled himself from the Firebolt model and walked over to them. "We were looking everywhere for you! You weren't at the Leaky Cauldron, so we began searching around Diagon Alley…"

"How'd you know I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad." Ron replied simply, Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry of Magic, he must have heard about what had happened.

"Did you _really_ blow up your aunt, Harry?" Hermione asked him seriously.

"I didn't mean too…" Harry told them while Ron roared with laughter. "I just…lost it…"

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes, then smiled. "It _is_ good to see you."

The three best friends began catching up, talking about the break, and the upcoming year.

"Yeah, did you hear? Percy made Head boy." Ron grimy informed Harry.

"He must be very happy for himself." Harry laughed.

Harry suddenly noticed all of the bags Hermione was carrying around, abnormally large for the regular amount of school books that students buy each year.

"What's all that, Hermione?"

"Well I'm taking more classes this year, aren't I? More than you. These are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creature, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron. "You're a muggle-born; you know more about muggles than the teacher will!"

"But it will be fascinating to study them from a wizarding point of view!" Hermione protested.

"Are you planning to sleep at all this year?" asked Harry.

"I've got ten Galleons left from my birthday." said Hermione, changing the subject. "And I really want an owl, Harry had—" There was a pinched look on Harry's face. "—I mean have, you have Hedwig…and Ron…well…he has…Scabbers."

"Yeah…I want to get him checked over." Ron pointed to a small ball in his shirt pocket—were Scabbers was hiding. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him…he has this strange rash…" Ron pulled him out of his pocket. And it was true, there was a strange rash on Scabbers's arm, it looked scull shaped…with a little teeny-tiny snake…

"There's a magical creatures shop over there," Harry pointed to a store behind them; he had memorized all the shops in the couple of weeks he had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Great." Hermione smiled. So they all crossed the street and walked into the Magical Menagerie.

Inside the small shop, the walls were covered in all sorts of cages, with all sorts of animals, rats, and cats, owls, newts, ravens, rabbits, funny fuzz balls that squeaked, and even a giant tortoise.

Ron approached the counter to talk to the witch that owned the shop, while Harry looked around with Hermione, helping her pick out a pet.

She passed bowls of goldfish, play pins of puppies, cages of rabbits, and with a quick glance, even past the perches of owls. They found themselves in the back of the store.

"Hermione, I thought you wanted an owl."

Hermione frowned, "I don't know, I'll know what I want when I see it…"

And see it she did, in the darkest corner in the back of the store was a big metal cage with huge steel chains encircling it, a low growl humming coming from the inside of the box.

"I wonder what's in there…" Hermione moved closer, ignoring the signs posted around the box: '**DO NOT HANDLE.' 'KEEP SMALL CHILDREN…AND GROWN ADULTS AWAY.' 'WARNING: SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE FED TO CAT.'**

"Oooh! Harry, it's a kitty!" Hermione cooed.

"Oy! Harry!" Ron called from the front of the store. "Come help me with this!"

Harry turned to Hermione, "I'm going to help Ron, you come out when you got everything, okay?" Hermione nodded, still staring at the box.

Harry walked over to Ron, noticing him buckling under numerous amounts of books; Harry grabbed a couple off the top.

"What all this, then?"

"Well…" said Ron as the walked out of the store. "It seems that along with that rash, Scabbers has some deep-rooted emotional problems."

"What."

"Yeah, the owner said he was a Hitler Youth in his past life…oh and he might be bipolar."

"Like your mom?"

"Ye—BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione had just walked out with her new pet in her arms, a giant frizzy ginger cat…it had boxing gloves on.

"Hermione…" Harry was slightly confused at the turn of events that lead her to buy this animal. "Why does your cat have an eye-patch?"

But Hermione ignored them, holding her cat closer to her. "Sorry, I took so long; they had to put Crookshanks in decompression before I could by him. The manager was so happy he found a home, she was crying in joy!"

"What are you thinking?" Ron demanded. "Scabbers is in a delicate mental state! And you go buy that monster!"

"He's a cat, Ronald." Hermione replied coldly.

"Scabbers has a complex Hermione! A COMPLEX!"

Harry quickly butted in, "Let's go back to the Leaky Cauldron, I'm hungry, aren't you guys?"

The trio silently made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Ron glaring at Crookshanks the whole way.

They walked in just as the Weasley family was sitting down to eat.

"Harry!" George and Fred called out. "Simply _spiffing_ to see you!" "Really corking—!" Fred agreed.

"Oh, Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley fluttered as she walked in the room. "How are you? Have you heard the good news? Second Head boy in the family!" She pointed proudly to Percy.

Harry smiled, nodding, then turned around a promptly ran into Ginny. She squeaked, muttering 'hallo.' And ran to the other end of the table.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down, Ron quickly reaching for his plate. Harry turned to look about him, noticing Mr. Weasley reading the newspaper beside him.

"Haven't caught him, then?" he asked.

"No," said Mr. Weasley grimly. "They've pulled us off all normal jobs, looking for him, the Ministry's in an uproar."

"Would we get an award if we caught him?" Ron suddenly questioned. "I bet we could, Harry—"

A faint buzzing started sounding and Harry reached inside his jean pocket, he pulled out the Mini-Harry Alarm, laying it on the table and watching it faintly glow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron." Mr. Weasley informed him.

* * *

After the dinner, spurred some greater force (author's plot-line) Harry decided to take a midnight stroll around the Leaky Cauldron. He found himself outside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room. After loudly tripping on the stairs and some mild cursing—Harry leaned against the door, trying to hear what they were talking about…

"…makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and—"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over his head? For heaven's sake, he's _happy_ not knowing!"

"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves—they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest! I don't want to say this, but, Ron's not so smart—and Harry's a bit of a loser."

Harry sniffled.

"Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think of what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him."

"But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point—"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been a month, and no one's seen hide or hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet_, we're no nearer catching Black then Fudge is of defending himself from leprechauns. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after—"

"But Harry will be safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe too. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry—"

Harry leaned closer—suddenly, the door gave away and flung open, revealing him to the two inside. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stared at him in shock. Harry quickly got up and closed the door again.

"…uh…well…as I was saying…The whole report wasn't in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet. But Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's a Hogwarts…he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring He-Who-We-Still-Can-Not-Name back into power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years in Azkaban to brood on that…"

"You do what you think is right, but you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's headmaster. I suppose he knows?"

"Of course he does. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that…but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry—"

"—then I will never say another word against them," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late Molly, we'd better go to bed…you know, I'm just happy Harry's spying on us, I don't have to repeat myself tomorrow…"

Harry quickly rose to his feet and went to his room. He wondered why he wasn't so scared, Sirius Black murdered thirteen people with one curse; and Dumbledore was appearing to be going downhill, but…after Voldemort failing to kill you three times, the excitement of your very own serial killer seemed to wear thin. He frowned, did they think he was a total loser, he'd blundered his way through worse things before.

"I'm _not_ going to be murdered," Harry said aloud.

"Just keep telling yourself that, dear," said his mirror sleepily.

* * *

The next day after everyone had their things packed, Mr. Weasley informed them that they were taking Ministry cars to Platform 9 ¾.

"It's all because of this El Lupo…you see, we don't want to be held up in the public subway, he's been spotted down there…" Mr. Weasley explained to them.

But Harry knew otherwise, he moodily stared out the window all the way there, and at the Station, Mr. Weasley was at his elbow at all times.

"Right then, let's do this in pairs. I'll go through first with Harry."

They quickly strolled between barriers nine and ten, coming closer and closer to the wall—Harry wondering briefly if they were going to crash into it like last year—but they didn't, and Harry melted through to the other side. It was time to start a new year at Hogwarts, and this one looked to be as eventful as the last.

* * *

_**Siriusly**_


	18. Seriously?

Wow, already its chapter 18. It seems like only yesterday when we were just starting chapter one…(sniffle) They grow up so fast!

That Loser

**Chapter 18: Seriously?**

"Look, I've got something really important to tell you." Harry had waited as long as he could to tell Hermione and Ron the news about Sirius Black. That lasted about a total of forty seconds. "Find an empty compartment, I don't want anybody to overhear." Harry looked around nervously.

"There aren't any empty ones left, but this one isn't bad." Hermione slid open the door of the last compartment and stepped inside, with Ron and Harry right behind her. The cabin was totally unoccupied except for a slightly shabby looking man in the corner.

The man seemed familiar somehow. Harry squinted his eyes in concentration. "Who's that?"

"Professor R. J. Lupin," said Hermione.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Whoa, you DO know everything! Ok, what am I thinking of…"

Hermione sighed, "You're imagining that you were Harry."

"I…what…no! No, I was, uh…" Ron sweated heavily, "I…I…I GIVE UP! You do know all!"

"No, you're just predictable. Anyway, see his briefcase? Right there, Professor R. J. Lupin." The man was wearing a black sleeping mask that covered his eyes, and had a wide brimmed black hat tipped down, shading the upper part of his face, but highlighting an unexpected moustache. A black cloak with a large red L on the back was draped over him like a blanket. There was a sword propped next to him for some reason.

"Lupin?" Harry had that strange sensation again, as if he had seen this man before. Wait a second…Lupin…El Lupo…L…sword…moustache…? Why does this all sound so familiar? "What do you think he's going to teach?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione looked from Harry to Ron.

Ron shrugged, "You lost me at 'briefcase'."

Hermione smiled, once again having her intellectual superiority confirmed, "Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course! After all, Lockhart is kind of out of commission."

"Yeah. Oh, Harry, what was it you wanted to tell us?" Ron scratched his nose absentmindedly.

"Do you think it's safe with…him?" Harry nodded his head toward Professor Lupin.

"He's a teacher, so I'm sure he's a good person. It'll be totally safe." Hermione sat down, straightening her robes. "I mean, just think of all our other teachers, they're trustworthy."

"Uh, Hermione, Snape's tried a bunch of times to get me and Ron expelled, Quirrell tried to kill me, and Lockhart tried to erase our memories. Face it; they're not the most reliable bunch." Harry ticked off each teacher with a finger. "Do you really think we can trust him?"

Ron shrugged, "I guess."

"Ok," said Harry, who, while occasionally has uncharacteristically bright ideas, also has selective short-term memory. "Here's what happened."

Harry told Ron and Hermione about overhearing Ron's parents talking about Sirius Black.

Hermione looked a little stunned. "Harry, are you saying that…that Sirius Black, the insane murderer, is after you?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, but I'm sure we'll be safe at Hogwarts."

The snack trolley creaked to a halt outside of their compartment. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Ron held up a few sickles, "I'll take the lot!"

The snack trolley lady raised an eyebrow, "With three sickles?"

Ron reddened, "Um, just a licorice wand, then."

Hermione and Harry were still talking. "I can't believe it, are you serious?"

An unkempt man with stringy black hair wearing a torn prison uniform popped out of a compartment on the side of the snack trolley. "Here I am!"

Harry frowned, "Huh?"

The man snorted, "Well you just said Sirius, didn't you?"

Hermione looked from the strange man back to Harry, "Yeah, I said, are you serious?"

"No, I'm Sirius!"

"Of course you are." Hermione had a huge fake smile plastered on her face. "Bye now." She slammed the compartment door in his face. "Freak. Honestly, the staff on this train is going seriously downhill."

There was a muffled shouting on the other side of the door. "Right, Sirius! That's me!"

The door stayed closed.

"All right, I'll just wait, then."

* * *

It was dark outside of the train's window. Harry was staring out the window at the moonlit scenery as is befitting of an angsty hero, while Ron snored on in the corner and Hermione flipped through some of their required reading. The train suddenly slammed to a halt, pushing Harry painfully against the window and throwing Ron on top of Hermione.

"Uh, I just want to be friends!" Ron smiled nervously.

Hermione scowled and pushed him off. "Why did we stop?"

Harry peeled his face off of the window, "I dunno…does it seem colder to you?"

Ron picked himself up off of the floor, "Yeah. Hey wait, is this because of more budget cuts?"

"Ron, don't be ridiculous, it's the middle of summer!" Hermione confident smile faded, "Yeah, its summer…so why's it so cold?" Ron and Hermione's heads automatically turned to Harry.

Harry suddenly looked panicked, "Stop staring at me!" He grabbed Lupin's cloak and hid underneath it, forgetting that it wasn't an invisibility cloak.

"Well that was mature." Hermione rolled her eyes.

The sound of quiet breathing echoed down the hallway outside of their compartment. Harry poked his head out from under the cloak. There was a feeling of increasing dread as the breathing got closer and a shadow passed in front of their door and stopped. Harry tried not to breathe as he stared at the door, willing it to stay closed. Beside him, Hermione was frozen in the act of picking up Self Defense for Dummies, and Ron's attention was focused on the floor for some reason.

The door slowly slid open, revealing a tall black robed…thing. It reached a decaying skeletal hand toward Harry and drew a slow rattling breath. An intense cold swept over them all, and then the green light, it was everywhere, and there was a woman screaming, a roar from a dead throat. And there was a pair of scissors doing the cancan for some reason…then everything was swirling strangely and the floor seemed to be gone as Harry felt himself falling backwards into the infinity of the green light.

Professor Lupin stepped between Harry and the robed figure, his wand raised and his robes billowing heroically in a nonexistent wind. The sword helped too. "You may leave. WE ARE NOT HIDING SIRIUS BLACK UNDER OUR CLOAKS!"

"Here I am!" said Sirius, poking his head out from under Ron's cloak. He looked around. "So I guess this is a bad time?" He pulled his head back in and disappeared.

The thing didn't move.

Lupin pulled out his wand and something silver sprung from the end at the robed figure.

Harry's eyes started to roll back in his head, and the screaming, it was back, all around him, inside him, rattling off his skull. Pleading, tortured screams...

* * *

"Harry? Harry! Wake up!"

Harry woke to someone slapping his face.

"Harry! WAKE UP HARRY!"

Someone was shaking his shoulders. Ow, that hurt. Stop.

"WAKE UP HARRY!"

Then someone was punching him. Hard. He struggled toward consciousness.

"WAKE UP HARRY!"

Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione grabbing a baseball bat and raising it above her head.

"YOU'D BETTER BE ALIVE HARRY OR SO HELP ME I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Stop! Stop! I'm awake, okay!" Harry put an arm in front of his face protectively.

"Oh, Harry!" She gave Harry a huge hug, and Ron joined in.

"We thought you were dead, mate!"

Hermione let go, but Ron kept on hugging.

"Uh…Ron?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Get off."

Ron blushed, "Right, sorry."

Professor Lupin was holding something out towards him. "Go ahead, eat it, it'll help."

"Thanks."

Harry took a small bite of what looked like chocolate and felt warmth creeping back into his fingers. When he looked back up at Hermione, she had seemed to have composed herself and was holding a clipboard.

"Wha—?" Harry's head still felt a little fuzzy.

Hermione sighed. "We need to talk about your fainting quota, Harry, you're way behind schedule." She consulted her clipboard, "Two years ago you started out small, only a few moments of unconsciousness, but with last year's quota being above the projected rate, I had high hopes. Such high hopes, Harry. But with only one faint so far this year, I must confess that I'm disappointed. You're going to have to get your numbers up."

"I—I will, I promise, just give me more time." Harry did some calculations, if he fainted once a day, with three hundred and sixty five days in a year, then that means he would faint…um, many times. Yeah, many.

"Dude," Ron elbowed him in the ribs, "I can't believe you fainted!"

Harry tried to clear his head, "What, didn't you?"

Ron snorted, "No. I mean, I felt coldish and that thing was creepy, but no one else fainted."

Harry was confused, "But…but the scream, I know I heard someone screaming. That must have been real."

Hermione shrugged, "Oh that was probably Ron, he thought he saw a spider."

Ron's eyes snapped open wide. "SPIDERS! SPI—" Hermione slapped her hand over his mouth.

"And that'll be enough, Ron."

Harry frowned. "No, not like that. It was kind of…"

Professor Lupin slid open the compartment door, "We've arrived. Let me know if you have any problems, you know, weird symptoms. Things like that."

"Weird symptoms?"

Lupin smiled wolfishly, gathering his sword and stuffing it into his suitcase, "You think that's chocolate I gave you?"

The door slid shut behind him.

Harry gulped, "Do I look any different to you?"

Ron was the first to speak, "Er…did you use to have a large wriggling green wart?"

* * *

"Really Harry, it's hardly noticeable. A little bit of makeup with clear it right…whoa. Does anything look different to you?" Hermione stopped in the process of matching Harry's skin tone to the concealer in her compact.

Harry titled his head to the side. "Did that used to be there?"

Ron's eyes were squinted up as he stared into the distance. "And was it ever that…big?"

Despite what you might be thinking, they were not referring to the size of Harry's wart, but to the Hogwarts scenery. It was true, nearly everything looked different. There was a huge metal bridge that had never been there spanning the width of the lake which had suddenly grown to the size of a small sea. Hagrid's hut was suddenly beside a scenic stream and a large Stonehenge-like collection of rock formations framed the courtyard. Even the castle looked a little bigger.

"Wow, they've been doing some serious remodeling." Harry stared out the window of the horseless carriage in awe.

"I'll say," said the strange, unkempt man from the train, popping up out of nowhere.

"Would—would you just get out of here!"

He stepped out of the coach and shuffled away mumbling, "Well then you shouldn't have called…said Sirius, so I came…ungrateful little…"

* * *

The golden trio walked in through the doors of Hogwarts with the rest of the third years, looking forward to the sorting of the new first years and the feast.

Professor McGonagall strode up to them. "Harry Potter, Miss Granger, would you come with me please?"

Ron started to follow.

"No, not you Mister Weasley. Go join the others at the feast."

Ron looked at Hermione questioningly. She shrugged and allowed herself to be led away.

When they reached McGonagall's office, which turned out to be considerably smaller and more organized than Dumbledore's, Madame Pomfrey entered the room.

"Harry, I received a report that you fainted on the train…" Professor McGonagall made a small choking noise in her throat that could have been a snicker, and quickly covered it up with a cough, "Yes, on the train. Are you feeling all right? Someone as delicate as you might need extra care. Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

Madame Pomfrey laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "You can stay as long as you need to."

Harry shrugged off her hand, "I don't need to go to the infirmary, I'm fine!"

"Well then, I suppose that's settled. You may go Mister Potter, enjoy the feast." Professor McGonagall's eyes followed him out of the room. As he closed the door, he could hear McGonagall talking to Hermione. "Now, Miss Granger, about your classes…"

* * *

Harry waited until Hermione got out of McGonagall's office. When she came out, she seemed to be tucking something inside of her robes.

"Ready to go, Hermione?"

Hermione jumped. "Oh, Harry, I wasn't expecting you to be here."

Harry started to open his mouth to ask about her strange behavior.

Hermione spoke before he could. "Um, come on Harry, we've already missed the sorting, let's not miss the feast."

They quickly walked into the Great Hall and sat down beside Ron. Two plates magically materialized in front of them. Dumbledore was already standing in front of the school giving his usual beginning of the year speech, except…there was something different about him.

"Does Dumbledore look…oh, I dunno…different this year?" Harry was staring at Dumbledore.

Ron's eyes opened wider, "Hey, yeah! Different glasses, suddenly shorter, different bone structure, different voice…"

"Yeah, and what's with that hairstyle? The ponybeard has been out since the 70's!" said Hermione with distaste.

"Wait…does it have…bells on it!" Ron stared in horror at Dumbledore's hairdo.

"Whoa, seriously creepy."

"Yeah, I'll say." Sirius was suddenly sitting beside Harry.

Harry screamed and fainted.

Hermione clapped, "Very good, Harry! That's one more toward our year-end goal. Well done!"

* * *

"Where's Hermione?" Ron searched the halls frantically as he and Harry hurried to find their next class, Divination, the next day.

"And more importantly, where's our class. I'm sure we passed that statue of Patricia the Patronizing at least three times already!" Harry was starting to get nervous. It was his first class of the year and he wanted to make a good impression. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Why not ask for directions?" The sound of Hermione's voice came from directly behind Ron.

"Hermione! Don't do that, you could've given me a heart attack!"

Hermione waved a hand dismissively, "Oh, that's not likely at our age. Here, let's ask this portrait. Excuse me, sir?"

The knight in the portrait woke with a snort. "Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

Ron looked offended, "Hey, I resent that!"

Harry tried to be diplomatic, "Look, we just need to find the Divination room. Do you know where it is?"

The knight perked up immediately, "A quest? Follow me good sirs and damsel!" He took off, running from portrait to portrait.

Harry and Ron just stood there. Hermione sighed, "Well? Let's follow him!"

He eventually stopped in front of a small classroom in one of the highest towers. "Here is your destination. I hope you are successful on your quest, and remember, if you ever have need of a noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cardigan!" The knight jumped onto the Pretty Pony Princess from one of the nearest portraits and rode away.

"Yeah we'll call you," Ron said, "if we ever need someone mental!" Ron snorted with laughter for a few seconds until he realized no one else was laughing.

Harry and Hermione stared at him.

"You know, mental?" He was looking embarrassed now. "It was…supposed to be…funny." He glanced hopefully at Harry, then wilted. "Never mind."

* * *

The Divination room turned out to be a rather cramped room full of squishy armchairs and chintz poufs arranged around little tables with crystal balls. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at one table, barely on time. Their teacher turned out to be just as odd looking and unexpected as the room.

"Good morning students, I am Professor Trelawney, and I will be guiding you in the mystic and ancients rites of Divination." She crossed the room to stand in front of Parvati Patil, "Oh, and don't worry about it dear, it's not noticeable. Besides, it'll be gone in one week."

Parvati's hand flew to her nose.

Trelawney continued, "For some of you, who possess the inner eye, I will be able to steer you to see beyond the mundane. But for some of you…" She walked over to stand by Hermione, who was staring at Professor Trelawney skeptically. "There is nothing I can do."

Hermione raised her hand, "Professor, are you really serious? I mean, seeing the future? Isn't that a little bit…well, ridiculous, really?"

Outside the window a strange man with matted black hair and a ripped prison outfit, tried desperately to climb up the vines growing on the outside of the tower.

Trelawney continued, undaunted, "Like you, for instance. I see no trace of the inner eye in you at all, oh dear, no. The soul within you is as dry and shriveled as an old maid's, or as the pages of the books you so foolishly cling to." Trelawney gave Hermione a watery smile.

"Uh oh." Thought Harry.

Hermione, her face a shade of red only previously achieved by someone with the last name Weasley, picked up the crystal ball on their table and threw it at Trelawney. "I am so out of here!" She stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

The classroom was silent for a moment.

"Oh dear," said Trelawney, "was it something I said?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. This class just kept getting worse and worse. Without Hermione to help them with their homework, they were going to fail!

"Ah well, at least the unbeliever is gone. Now, let's start the lesson. On everyone's table is a coffee maker. I want you to add exactly three teaspoons of coffee and wait until the exact time when the coffee maker beeps to pour the coffee. After that, bring the coffee to me."

Lavender Brown raised her hand, "But why? Is it to read our future in the steam or something?"

Professor Trelawney laughed, "Oh no my dear girl, I just didn't have time for my decaf this morning! Now, after you bring me the coffee, take out the filter and read the signs left in the coffee grounds using Unfogging the Future."

Hesitantly, the class went about their task. After giving Trelawney their coffee, Harry and Ron took turns trying to read the signs in the grounds. It wasn't easy, nearly every sign looked the same and it was hard to distinguish which signs were supposed to be which.

Harry was taking his turn reading Ron's filter. "Let's see, that thing looks a bit like a wombat, and that means…wait, there's no wombat in here. Wait, oh okay, if you turn it this way it looks like the Mystic Cross, which means that you're going to come into some money soon. And that bit looks like the Beautiful Tall Dark Stranger Sign, which means that you're going to meet a beautiful, tall, dark stranger."

"Score!" Ron was smiling for the first time during the class, "Maybe this Divination thing isn't so bad! Here, I'll read yours." He took the filter and squinted. "Hmmm…let's see, that little dangly bit right there looks like the Otter of Suffering. Oh, tough break Harry. And, that kind of roundish thingy, that looks like the Eternal Sun, which means happiness. Or it could be the Grapes of Wrath. Or, hey, this one sounds pretty good, the Leprechaun. So…you're going to suffer…but you're going to be happy about it, but then you're going to get angry about being lucky?"

Trelawney was standing over them looking displeased. "No no, let me see the filter." Her eyes scanned the filter, then she suddenly gasped and dropped the filter.

Nothing happened for a few seconds.

Trelawney sighed, "Well, that wasn't very dramatic. There should have been a crash of breaking china or something."

Neville suddenly screamed and dropped his rememberall. It broke with a shatter. "Sorry, but…you kind of scare me."

"Excellent! Now we can continue." Trelawney suddenly took up the shocked look again. "HARRY!"

Harry winced as she shouted in his ear.

"Oh, oh my dear boy!"

"Stop calling me that."

Trelawney looked at Harry with tears glistening dramatically in her eyes. "Oh my dear boy! Such a shame, oh dear. You…you have…The Grim."

Harry looked confused, "The what?"

The room was full of the sound of people flipping pages, trying to figure out what The Grim was.

"It's the Dark Omen. It means death!" Trelawney paused for dramatic effect.

Ron, as insensitive as ever looked back at the filter. "Really, I thought that bit looked like the Warthog of Indigestion, or at least the Bladder of Regret."

Harry simply stared at Unfogging the Future with a look of dread on his face. The illustration next to the description of The Grim was a large black dog exactly like the one he saw at Privet Drive…

* * *

"Oh, Harry, that's ridiculous. You're not going to die!" Hermione was trying to reason with Harry on the way to their next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry who happened to be looking over his shoulder, saw a girl walking up a flight of stairs that looked exactly like…

"Herm—hey, where'd she go?" Harry looked around wildly.

Ron blinked and jerked his head toward Harry. "Huh?"

"Hermione! She was just here, then I saw someone that looked just like her over…AND THERE! There she is again!" Two of the girls that looked like Hermione were exchanging books. Another one was walking out of the Arithmancy room and one more was now directly in front of Harry.

Harry fainted.

"Excellent!" said about five Hermiones, taking out clipboards and jotting down notes.

* * *

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts, " said Professor Lupin once everyone was seated. "You may put away your books; all you will need today is your wands. This will be a practical lesson."

Harry was actually pretty excited; they'd never really had a practical lesson before. Except that business with the muffins, but that didn't really count.

Professor Lupin led them into the staff room, where there was a small wardrobe in the corner. Every few seconds something inside would bang on the doors and the wardrobe would almost tip over.

"Nothing to worry about," said Lupin calmly because a few students had jumped back in alarm, "There's a boggart in there. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"

Hermione, unsurprisingly, raised her hand. "Yes, Hermione?"

"A boggart is a shape-shifter. It will take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin. Hermione glowed with nerdish pride. "The boggart in the wardrobe right now has not yet assumed a form. No one knows what a boggart really looks like. And, although they themselves are not dangerous, they can be frightening. However, we have the advantage today. And why is that? Anyone…Harry, what do you think?"

Harry was caught off guard, "Um, because there are so many of us. It won't know what shape to take?"

Lupin smiled, "Exactly! Now, I'm going to let the boggart out, so you can have some firsthand experience repelling one. When confronted with a boggart, you must say the spell _Ridikulus! _loudly and clearly and think of how to make what you're most afraid of seem funny. Laughter finishes a boggart, it can't stand being laughed at. Now, who wants to try first?"

Harry, The Hero With A Death Wish, was about to volunteer as he always did when it was for something dangerous, when a small quivering hand shot up in the air.

"Neville? Yes, thank you. Would you come up here please?" Neville, looking a little pale, went to join Lupin at the front of the classroom. "Now, what is it you're most afraid of?"

"Well…isn't that sort of a personal question?" said Neville nervously, as if he was expecting to get detention.

Professor Lupin just laughed, "Yes, I suppose it is, but I won't be able to help if I don't know what you're afraid of."

Neville mumbled something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Neville stood on tiptoe and whispered into Professor Lupin's ear. Lupin looked as if he was trying not to laugh. "Oh! Oh? Yes, well, I suppose that isn't a very…traditional fear, but, yes, I think it will work fine. Now, Neville, you live with your grandmother, correct?"

Neville nodded, "Uh huh." Then he paled, "You're not going to make _her _come out of the wardrobe, are you? If I jinxed her, she'd be really mad!"

"No, no, I want you to imagine the type of clothes your grandmother wears."

Neville squinted in concentration, "Well, one time when we went to the beach, she wore this bikini…" Neville shuddered.

Lupin nodded, "Excellent, now when the boggart comes out of the wardrobe, say _Ridikulus _and think about that bikini."

Neville nodded with determination and turned to face the wardrobe.

Professor Lupin flicked his wand and the door of the wardrobe flew open. Professor Snape stepped out wearing a yellow polka dot bikini.

"Oh, that's just gross!"

"_R…R…Ridikulus!"_

The Boggart Snape took one look at everyone shielding their eyes and burst into tears, running back into the wardrobe wailing, "Well, _I _think I'm pretty!"

Neville, looked shocked for a moment, then smiled. Then started to laugh.

Lupin gestured for the rest of the class to line up. 'Next?"

Someone put on some appropriate music on the record player that was conveniently sitting in a corner as the fun began.

Ron quivered as a giant spider stepped out of the wardrobe. "_R-Ridikulus!"_ The spider was suddenly squashed by a large shoe. Ron smiled a little bit. "Well, that wasn't so…SPIDER! SPIDER!" A tiny spider was climbing idly on the window.

Hermione almost started crying when Professor McGonagall stepped out of the wardrobe and told her that she had failed her Transfiguration test. Then she rallied a little bit and said in a prim tone, "Me, fail? That's just _Ridikulus!_!" The test paper McGonagall was holding tore itself into tiny pieces and burst into flame. Hermione started laughing madly, and everyone took a few steps away.

Seamus's mummy was unmasked by the characters of Scooby Doo.

Lavender Brown's broccoli quiche sprouted wings and flew away.

Parvati Patil's evil robot collapsed in a heap of parts.

When it was Harry's turn, he stepped up confidently, but Lupin jumped in front of him before he could do anything. A small white orb shrouded in clouds hung where Susan Bones' dinosaur used to be.

"_Ridikulus!" _said Professor Lupin almost lazily. The orb deflated like a balloon and flew back into the wardrobe. Lupin quickly shut the doors. "Well, I hope you've enjoyed the class. For tonight's homework, I would like a few inches on boggarts and how they can be defeated. Thank you."

Everyone in the class filed out of the room happily. Harry would have been happier; after all, they finally had a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, if a thought wasn't bugging him. Why had Lupin not let him have a chance with the boggart? After all that business on the train, did he think Harry was a loser who couldn't handle pressure? Harry sighed, he wouldn't be the first. And, speaking of Lupin and the boggart, why was Lupin afraid of the moon? Harry was once again feeling like there was some sort of connection he was missing. Remus…the Roman legend about wolves…Lupin…wolf…gone once a month…looks sick all the time…scared of the moon… Harry knew there was something important, if only he was smart enough to figure out what!

Oh well. Hermione and Ron were beside him laughing, and his classes were all turning out to be interesting. Still, there were strange things happening and Harry was going to get to the bottom of them…

* * *

**_Oddly_**


	19. The Evil of Moustaches

Please be nice to this chapter, half of it was written in a fevered state as I desperately tried to make deadline. It appeared **_Oddly_** didn't care I had the flu and was trying not to barf on the keyboard. (Grins at **_Oddly_**.)

That Loser

**Chapter 19: The Evil of Moustaches**

About a week later Harry became aware of a note on the Gryffindor Common Room notice board. It was something he had forgotten about…until now.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry clasped to his knees; Crookshanks zigzagged past him, chasing a small first year student.

"Harry!" Hermione stepped down from the Girl's Staircase, walking towards him, carrying her chart and clipboard. "What's wrong?"

"I—!" He began

Then a great howl was heard as an oddly shaped object rolled down the Boy's staircase. It was Ron. "It's Lupo! Isn't it? Rapid fangirls? RUSSIANS! NO! Harry, no! Please tell me it's not…SPIDERS!"

The first years, huddled by the fireplace in fear, looked up confused as Ron darted around the room, screaming at cobwebbed-corners. "SSSSSPPPPPPPPPIDDDDDDEEEEERRRRRSSSS!"

Hermione, seemly slightly displeased that Harry was still conscious, slapped Ron upside the head with her clipboard. "Stop it Ronald! Harry has to tell us something important!"

Ron dived onto a couch, huddled in the corner and whined, quickly looking about him.

Harry narrowed his eyes, Ron always stole his thunder. "Yes, well…NNNNNOOOOOOO!" he coughed once. "OOOO! MY LIFE! IT'S OVER! The Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow and I can't go!" Harry's face had turned blue; Hermione waited excitedly on the balls of her feet.

He exhaled. "What am I going to do?" Surprisingly he was addressing Ron. Hermione frowned, grumbling in the background.

"Wha—? Wait—me? You've asking me?" Ron's face broke out in a grin. "You're—you're _really_ asking me?"

"Well yeah Ron, you're my best—yeah, you've right. Hermione! What am I going to do?"

"Harry! How can you even be thinking of going to Hogsmeade! Sirius Black is after you! This is a serious matter!"

"Here I am!" A strange, yet familiar voice echoed from inside the chimney. "I'll be there in a minute—I appear to be stuck…"

"Yeah…I guess you're right, but—"

"Oh sure! _All_ the insane murders are after Harry! Because Harry's _just so special._ Harry has everything! Everyone loves Harry Potter!" Ron snorts.

"Yeah…"

"Look Harry." Hermione gave Harry a pointed look as Ron muttered in the background about being unwanted. "If it really means that much to you, we can go ask Professor McGonagall after lessons today."

Harry sighed, unstrapping the bomb from his chest. "Ok Hermione, you're right." He suddenly glared. "Of course."

"Yes," Hermione agreed smugly, patting her afro. "Now let's go down to the Great Hall, you don't want to be late for class."

With that being said, the three third years exited the Gryffindor Common Room, just as a man in a ripped prisoner's outfit dropped into the fireplace.

"Here I am!"

* * *

Potions was the first class of the day. As always it was filled with horrors and Professor Snape's moustache.

"Whoa. When did he grow _that?_"

"Don't look at it Harry!" Ron replied, hissing. "Everyone knows that all evil guys have moustaches! Haven't you ever watched the movies? For example, didn't you see that gigantic furry caterpillar that has devoured Professor Lupin's upper lip? It's EEEEVVVILLLLL!"

Harry nodded solemnly, "Yes, I did see, that _is _rather unfortunate."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ronald, don't be stupid, Professor Lupin's not evil!"

"Well…we don't know that for sure! And I do know for sure that Snape_ is!_"

Other than that, something odd also happened, near the end of class. The class was quietly making Giggling Solution when Professor Lupin walked in; he walked up to Professor Snape at his desk, and whispered something in his ear. Grudgingly, the Potions Master looked up from his book (Spies: a Tale of Woe, Death, and Double-crossing double-crossers) and handed Lupin a potion vial engraved with wolves and big full moons…strange.

Then as Professor Lupin headed back to the door, Snape suddenly began avidly discussing the mysterious El Lupo.

"Well I think he's dreamy!" Parvati sighed.

"I wish I knew who he was!" Seamus muttered angrily, looking over at Parvati.

"But he has on a mask that covers around his eyes and eyebrows! Not his eyes, nose, mouth, cheekbones, or any other distinguishing feature, but still his eyebrows! We'll never know!" Lavender informed them shrilly.

"Yes, well…" Snape was becoming increasing bored with the subject, as Lupin left the classroom. "The next person who speaks, I will cut out their eyeballs and feed them to—oh, let's go with something random, Voldemort-loyal dementors who wander freely away from Azkaban in a Dumbledore ridden world!" Snape hissed.

Hermione, who had been missing for the first thirty minutes of class, suddenly appeared beside Harry. "Odd…this all seems to somehow fit together…if only I could…"

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, seeing her. "Where have you been? I thought you had skipped class or something!"

Hermione started fiddling convulsively with a necklace-shaped bulge under her robe. "What are you talking about Harry? I was here the whole time."

"No…I remember looking over just a minute ago and you weren't there—"

"Oh Harry this isn't important, like we agreed, I was here and—"

"No, Hermione, you weren't—"

"Harry! We have more serious matters to deal with than your imagination—"

"Strange how both Ron and I imagined the same thing—"

"I'm here."

Harry screamed and passed out as a lanky man in a prisoner's outfit jumped up behind Neville's cauldron.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, getting out her chart. "Thank Merlin."

**Check.**

* * *

"I—I just don't know, Ron, one minute I'm fine, and the next—I'm on the ground, passed out." Harry was explaining to Ron, in their next class, Transfiguration. "It's almost as pathetic as a grown-powerfully magical-man being beaten up by a one year old, or an eleven year old, or even a twelve year old."

"Yeah I know mate," he looked around quickly, to see if anyone was over hearing them. "But really," he began in a whisper. "It wouldn't even have happened if Hermione wasn't pulling those disappearing acts. I wonder what she's up too, it's like she's…_marauding _around."

Professor Lupin, who just incidentally was walking past the Transfiguration classroom's open doorway, dropped a large glass figurine.

"Yeah, well—"

"Hey guys." Hermione suddenly appeared sitting next to Harry.

"SPPIDDE—! Oh, hey Hermione."

"Ok class." Professor McGonagall walked into the room and moved towards the front near her desk. "Today I was going to teach you how to transfigure a canary into a flute, but on the spur of the moment, I decided we should do a lesson on Animagi."

Professor Lupin, who happened to passing again, right after going back down to the Great Hall to retrieve another glass figurine, had a momentary seizure and dropped the object.

"Divide up into partners and copy these notes down, then begin quizzing each other." McGonagall continued, taping the blackboard behind her.

After the Professor had finished, Harry turned to look at both Hermione and Ron. "Hey, you two can work together, I'll work with Neville."

Hermione shrugged, but Ron's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING HARRY? I DON'T LOVE HERMIONE, OK?"

"I, uh, I know Ron, I nev—"

"—WELL OK THEN."

"Ok."

"YEAH."

Hermione growled, "Look, Ronald, I may not have showered in three days because of studying, but that does not mean I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Ron blushed the colors of a rainbow. It was an interesting sight. "N-no…that's not it…" he mumbled.

Hermione visibly calmed down, her afro resettling. "Oh, well, then stop yelling, you look like a stag caught in headlights."

**Crash. Tinkle tinkle. **

A growl was heard as Professor Lupin angrily marched back down to the Great Hall.

* * *

"Look, Harry." Ron was coaching him after Transfiguration class ended, as they walked up towards their Head of House's desk. "Just give her the puppy-dog look, you already got the poor, lonely, loser orphan-boy look covered."

"Right." Harry breathed in and out quickly, bracing himself. "Ok, mate, I'm going in…"

Ron grabbed his shoulder, "Look mate, if—if you don't make it…"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have your identity?"

"What!"

"Oh, nothing, you'll be fine." He slapped an army-helmet on Harry's head. "Good luck…GO! GO! GO!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, tensed his leg muscles and dived—headfirst into McGonagall's desk.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry jumped to his feet, he must stay mentally alert, he was in enemy territory. "Sergeant—I uh, mean…Professor, I have something important to ask you."

"Yes Potter, I'm happy to hear it…Mr. Weasley will you stop that!"

"GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!"

Harry turned, making a slashing motion at Ron, he quickly blushed and crept backward further away from them.

"Well Professor, the Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow, you know…and um, my aunt and uncle burn—um, _forgot_ to sign my form, So—er—d'you think it would be alright—I mean, will it be okay if I—if I go to Hogsmeade?"

"No Potter." She told him flatly.

"OH! DENIED!" Ron's voice echoed from the back of the room.

"It clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission. That's my final word, you better hurry, you'll be late for lunch."

Defeated, Harry army-crawled under the desks back to Ron.

"I can't go."

"I'm sorry mate, I'll bring you back lots of candy, and butterbeer."

"Yeah…" The boys headed for the doorway.

"Oh! Potter!" McGonagall called out suddenly.

"YeS?" Harry's voice cracked as he answered, hope rising.

"I've been meaning to tell you this for the longest time, but, you know, you look a lot like your father, and you have you're…uh...wait—"

**"**Yeah thanks!" Harry growled as he quickly walked out the door.

Hope crushed.

* * *

The next day dawned gloomily for Harry, while everyone was venturing out to Hogsmeade, he had to stay behind.

And even though it made him look even more pitiable, Harry followed Hermione and Ron to the entrance of Hogwarts, to see them off.

"Staying here, Pooter?" Malfoy called across the courtyard, waiting in line to go to Hogsmeade. Malfoy was his usual mean self—but, something was different…it was probably the moustache. Harry shouldn't have been surprised, all evil guys had moustaches, it was a guideline. And he didn't need Ron hissing—or what Ron thought was hissing—into his ear:

"HARRY! LOOK! HE'S EEEEEVVVVIL!"

"Scared of passing the dementors?" Malfoy continued to taunt.

Hermione, always quick on the uptake, hurriedly took out her chart and clipboard.

"Nooo!" Harry sneered. **Pause.** "Yes."

"I'll see you later Harry." Hermione finally said after determining that Harry was very conscious.

"Yeah, see ya, mate. Remember, we still have the Halloween feast tonight." Ron nodded as him and Hermione skipped hand-in-hand down the daisy-bordered road to Hogsmeade, a bunny jumped around them.

Harry glared; and threw a rock at it.

Off slightly in the background, Filch, who was checking people out to Hogsmeade, laughed madly and pointed, while with his other hand, was stroking his new bushy moustache. "Looky Mrs. Norris! A LOSER!" Mrs. Norris meowed vainly; she too, had a moustache.

Angrily Harry stomped off, deciding to walk around the castle. He was randomly climbing staircases and thinking of seeing if Hedwig was feeling any better; when a voice from inside one of the classrooms he was passing, called out.

"Harry?"

Harry turned; Professor Lupin was speaking to him from inside his office. Harry swallowed nervously, he must remember not to judge Lupin because his unfortunate caterpillar problem.

"What are you doing?" asked Lupin, he had a big brown stain around his mouth, and was holding a bar of chocolate.

"Oh, nothing really...wondering around...being emo...what I always do."

Lupin frowned, considering him for a moment, he felt sorry for the little loser boy.

"Why don't you come in here Harry, so I can give you a delusion that you belong—er...I mean..., so we can talk."

Harry shrugged, unstrapping another bomb from his chest. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

"Want some tea? Or chocolate?" Lupin questioned him, holding up two tea bags. "I'm sorry to say, I've ran out of tea leaves...but I daresay you've had enough of them?"

Harry blushed, nodding.

Lupin shook his head, trying not to laugh.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Harry said.

Lupin nodded, not quite holding in his giggles. "Yeah...yeah, it's just funny, Harry. You seeing things, and such. It's always hilarious when a loser boy seeks attention."

"What?"

"Nothing—! Um, I'm always there for you, if you ever need anything, just ask."

"Oh...um, ok."

Harry paused, thinking about telling Lupin about his problems, that he had been seeing strange black dogs...but he decided not to, after all, that would make the story rather short and unexciting, and Lupin seemed to have some of his own problems, he glanced sideways at him, watching as he snorted a row of chocolate chips.

"Well, there is something, Professor."

"Yes, Harry?" He sniffed, rubbing his nose.

"You know that day; we were fighting the boggarts in your class? Why didn't you let me fight it?" Harry questioned him.

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious." Said Lupin, sounding surprised.

"What? Why?"

"Because you're delicate, Harry; passing out left and right; why, Ms. Granger has even come to me to help her make a spreadsheet from her chart. We have to be careful because of your state."

Harry could feel himself becoming red. "I am not delicate!"

Lupin smiled sweetly, "Yes, yes, of course not." He patted Harry's hand.

"I'm not! It's the dementors! When I'm around them—I, uh...I..._hear things_."

Lupin nodded, still smiling sweetly at him. "Yes, yes I'm sure you do..."

"No, really, I hear—"

But Harry was cut off as the sound of someone knocking at the door was heard.

Lupin looked up, hiding a chocolate bar behind his back. "Come in."

A dark little tune floated from behind the door (Dun-dundundun-DUN!) and with a flash of black smoke and an ominous creak, the door slowly opened, revealing…Snape. In an opera cloak.

Lupin frowned. "I'm sure I oiled that door yesterday."

"Lupin…" Snape sneered, presenting him with a vial, the same vial that Harry had seen him give Lupin the other day; covered in full moons, wolves, and etched letters: '**WOLFSBANE POTION'**. Harry wondered what it all meant.

Lupin smiled, obviously not noticing Snape's look of disgust and his shirt, which in big letters spelled out: I HATE LUPIN. "Thank you Severus, incidentally, how's your new hobby coming along?"

Lupin smiled even broader as Snape pursed his lips. "Good." He eventually replied. "I'm into the second act of Phantom of the Opera, and have already memorized the ballet to Cats."

Harry, looking around desperately, stuffed a bar of chocolate into his mouth. He giggled with the cocoa and sugar coating his tongue; and in total, it made him look like some sort of deranged chipmunk.

Snape's woodened glare turned to him. "You ok Potter?" he hissed, testing him. "You seemed to be having some sort of fit."

Harry mutely nodded as a dribble of chocolate saliva dripped down his chin.

Lupin watched this exchange quietly, as he drank the vial, then smacked his lips. "Yes, yes." He sat the empty vial back down on the desk. "We all have our little pastimes." He smiled once again. "I, for one, enjoy chocolate."

"I see." Snape replied, still looking at Harry. Then he abruptly turned around with a flourish of his opera cloak and exited the room.

"He does seem to have a talent for that." Lupin commented as the door closed. "All that billowing and such."

"Snape has a moustache!" Harry blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well…uh…" It was no use explaining that plain logic to a fellow moustacheer, he would have to use a different approach. "He's…well…evil."

"Is he?"

"Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts."

"Really?" said the Professor, looking only mildly interested as he shuffled papers around his desk.

"Yeah,…um…" Harry paused again. "What was that for?"

"Professor Snape had kindly brewed me a very difficult potion, you see, I've been sick this month. And the last, and the one before that. And the one before that, and the one before that, and even the one before that, and…well, I haven't been feeling well these past twenty-five years."

"Oh." This time, Harry was only mildly interested.

"So…Harry, if there's anything else, I really have to start practicing my fencing."

"Yeah, there is. Um…Professor? Can you teach me how to ward off dementors?"

Lupin paused, eyeing him for a moment. "It's not easy, Harry. It's a very complicated spell, and I confess, that I'm not sure a loser like you can be able to accomplish it…"

"Please Professor!"

"Well, ok. We'll start in a couple weeks or so."

"Thank you Professor!" Harry smiled as he turned towards the door.

"Oh, and Harry?"

Harry paused in the doorway as Professor Lupin put on a big black cape with a big red 'L' on it, and had a small black mask and sombrero in his hand. "I've being meaning to tell you, but. You look just like your father, and you have your mother's eyes."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? Really?" he ran towards a mirror hanging on a wall and peered into it. "Brilliant! They're still green!"

* * *

During the Halloween feast that night, Hermione and Ron told Harry about their time at Hogsmeade.

"It really wasn't anything special, Harry, really." Hermione told him.

"Yeah!" Ron nodded, "I mean, Honeydukes worth a visit, and the Three Broomsticks is awesome, Zonko's is bloody brilliant, and the Shrieking Shack is terrific. The little tea shop is kinda cool, and the book store is a little excellent, OH! And…"

Hermione gave him a look.

"Besides that, it's really nothing…" Ron finished up quickly, blushing.

Harry sighed. "Yeah…but you brought me back some candy, right? Like you said you would, right?" he looked at Ron.

"Oh…um, about that…you see…it smelled a lot better than I thought it would…"

Harry could feel himself becoming angry. But, no. No, he had to be happy for them. "Well, at least you two had fun together."

"WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY, HARRY? HUH? JUST BECAUSE I SPEND TIME WITH HERMIONE DOES NOT MEAN I'M TRYING TO WOO HER WITH MY CHARMS AND KNOWLEDGE OF HOGSMEADE. JEEZ, HARRY. HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT!"

"I…uh…"

"YEAH, WELL…"

"How was your day, Harry?" Hermione interrupted.

"Oh, it sucked. You know, I just wondered around playing the poor desolate hero, and such." Harry told them. "I did spend some time will Lupin, and you'll never believe what happened! Snape showed up and gave Lupin this potion vial, it was the same one we saw him give Lupin in class, remember? Yeah, well, Lupin drank it!"

Ron was shocked. "DID HE NOT SEE THE MOUSTACHE?"

Hermione took it a bit better. "This vial, Harry, was there anything…_odd_ about it?"

Harry mentally checked his memory. Full moons…wolves…Wolfsbane Potion…"Nope. Nothing at all."

"Well…I wonder…" Hermione looked thoughtful. "I think I need to research."

"Are you kidding me?" Ron laughed. "That's all you ever do!"

"I'll have you know Ronald Weasley, that if it wasn't for my research, than both you and Harry, oh, don't forget your _sister_ would be dead inside the Chamber of Secrets!"

"Yeah? Well, if you didn't research so much…than you could have taken up…um…Polo!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry sighed. "Will you two stop fighting? The feast has begun."

* * *

After the feast, the Gryffindors went their usual way to the Gryffindor Tower. But when they reached the corridor that held the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" said Harry curiously.

"Let me through! I'm the Head Boy!" Percy called out importantly. "You _all_ couldn't have forgotten the password, I mean; I know Gryffindor isn't famous for being the brightest house in Hogwarts, but still—"

A silence fell over the group of Gryffindors as Percy reached the entrance of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick." Came Percy's voice sharply.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore appeared with McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape. Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed closer as the professors moved near the portrait.

"Oh my—" Hermione gasped, embracing Ron in a tight hug.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

"We need to find her." Dumbledore called out, his propeller hat spinning somberly.

Scabbers suspiciously squeaked in terror and scurried down the staircases.

"El Lupo strikes again!" A first year cried out. Professor Lupin flinched.

"No! The Russians!"

"Don't be stupid! It was the Australians!"

"Durmstrang!"

"Can't be! It was the Crumble-Horned Snorklacks!"

Voices frantically filled the scene.

"Look! Over there!" one voice cried out slightly louder than the rest. "The Fat Lady!"

The Professors quickly turned to look, up one flight of stairs, hiding behind a picture of a dancing rhino in a blue tutu, was the Fat Lady.

"My dear Lady," Dumbledore called out. Snape snickered into his hand. "Tell me who did this to you."

"Look," the Fat Lady told them bluntly, "before we get to that, there's something I've been meaning to tell you guys for a while now. I don't like being called the Fat Lady; it just doesn't help my self-esteem, would you like being called the Old Crazy Propeller-Hatted Bearded-Man? Or you the Opera Double-crossing double-crosser-spy?"

Snape frowned darkly.

"I'm sorry, my dear. We'll work on it."

"Ok, then." The Fat Lady sniffed loudly, her mood shifting fast, then blew her nose on the edge of the rhino's tutu.

"Eye's like the devil, he's got!" She told them. "Nasty temper, no fashion sense too!"

She sniffed once again. "It was Sirius Black! Sirius Black is inside Hogwarts!"

Four floors below…

"Ok! Now I _know_ someone said my name!"

* * *

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined a little bit later by the other three houses.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a through search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flickwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately." He addressed the Prefects, and students. "Send word with one of the ghosts." He added to Percy.

Then with a wave of his wand, the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the doors behind him.

The Great Hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors informing the rest of the school what had just happened.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron picked up three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner so they could discuss things in a tragic hero-type fashion.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," Harry told the other two as they climbed into the sleeping bags. "The one night we weren't in the tower."

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run, and didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here." Said Ron.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought. "The _one_ time we weren't in the tower…"

"Maybe he Apparated in?" Harry suggested.

Hermione looked at him coolly. "Am I the only person who's ever read Hogwarts, A History? There's all sorts of enchantments on the castle! You can't just Apparate in here! And I'd like to see a disguise that could fool a Dementor, and Filch knows all the secret passages…"

Professor Lupin, whose turn it was to check in on the students, suddenly spazzed and ran out of the Great Hall.

"Lights are going off now!" Percy shouted across the Hall; Hermione, Ron, and Harry settled down for the night.

But about four hours later Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Percy, decided to congregate around the very person Sirius Black was after and talk in loud whispers about things they probably didn't want him to know.

"Any sign of him, Professor!" Percy asked.

"No! All well here!"

"Everything under control, sir!"

"Good! We'll move them back in the morning; I have found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole, until Mr. Filch can restore the Fa—er…Gryffindor Portrait Lady!"

"Professor, do you remember what we discussed at the beginning of the term!" said Snape, plainly trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it!" Dumbledore made it clear that the subject was closed. "Or that Mr. Potter is a loser!"

Harry could feel some hope rising inside him—

"Ok, not a total loser!"

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	20. Mischief Sort of Managed

Hey, I never said I didn't care! I just said that you had to make the deadline even if you were…puking. Erm, ok, so that's exactly what I said. Does sorry cover it? And on that slightly sheepish note, here's chapter 20. The big 2-0. In one year this fanfic will be able to drink. Watch out world!…no seriously, watch out.

Note To Readers: This chapter has a lot of borrowed material, I don't own any of this material and blah you know the drill. I'm sure you're sufficiently intelligent to get what's ours and what isn't

That Loser

**Chapter 20: Mischief Sort of Managed**

"Your mother was a hamster, and you father is made of elderberries!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were waiting in the increasingly long line outside of the Gryffindor Common Room. Sir Cardigan's portrait was in the place of the Fa—The Woman of Questionable Physical Fitness, and refused to let anyone in without an hour's bombardment of insults. Besides, he kept on changing the passwords. So, recently everyone had taken to thumping him with a heavy gilded candlestick. It wasn't the password, but it turned out to be just as good.

Sir Cardigan's small round face was bloated with the effort of yelling insults. "You, vile temptress, I am not swayed by your girders of evil! Come face me like a—" Lavender lazily whacked him with the candlestick and handed it to Ron. Sir Cardigan landed with an 'oomph' and the clash of idiot against armor against painted landscape.

"Ha, ha, see it's funny. Miss Scarlet, in the Hallway, with the Candlestick."

Lavender looked hurt, "It's Brown."

Ron blinked, "Sorry, what was that?"

Lavender suddenly drew a pistol from her robe, "The name's Brown, Lavender Brown." Spy music played as she ducked and rolled to a wall. She flattened herself against the wall and inched her way around a corner.

* * *

Later that day, Harry, Ron, and as of a few seconds ago, Hermione, sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, waiting for Professor Lupin.

Ron leaned over his desk to whisper to Harry. "Where do you think he is?"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, maybe he's sick again."

Ron gasped suddenly, "Or maybe he's actually a vampire!"

Harry laughed, "Ron, that's ridi—"

"No, wait," Hermione stopped him, "Ronald might actually have a point."

"What do you mean by—hey, really?" Ron perked up. "I…I got it right!"

"That's right Ron, very good." She reached into her bag, "Here, have a cookie." She threw the cookie and Ron jumped up and caught it in his mouth.

"Mmmm…chfffooochieeeeee!" Ron spewed crumbs from his partially open mouth.

Harry flinched as crumbs littered his hair like delicious, home baked dandruff. "Do you really think Lupin could be a…vampire?"

Hermione nodded while fluffing her afro in a hand held mirror, "Oh, definitely. I mean, thinking about it logically, it all makes sense. The frequent absences, the secrecy, the weird potions—"

"The evil moustache!" said Ron, glaring suspiciously into the shadows.

"Ron, you've got something on your lip…"

"The caterpillar!" Ron dove frantically for Hermione's mirror.

"It all fits," finished Hermione.

Harry slouched into his seat, "Really…I was thinking werewolf, but vampire is good too."

Ron snorted, "Don't be stupid, Harry. Werewolves…please."

The doors suddenly swung open, and Snape strutted into the classroom. Halfway across, he threw his robes over his shoulder dramatically. "To be, or not to be….that is the question."

Neville hesitantly raised his hand, "Um, _I _have a question, Professor."

Snape, angry at being interrupted, glared at Neville. "And what would that be, Mister Longbottom?"

Neville squeaked, "Um, where's Professor Lupin?"

"Well he's a bit _moony _right now." Snape burst out in mad laughter. "No no, he's developed a _hairy _temper! Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he's having a _roaring _good time. Ahaha!"

Several bad puns later…

"No no, he's a _werewolf_! Ahahaha."

Everyone stared at him.

Snape blinked, "Oh, was that last one too obvious? Erm…he's sick."

Ron suddenly brightened, "Aha, I knew it! Lupin's a vampire!"

Snape wiped a tear from his eye, "Oh yes, that was fun. Now, turn to page three hundred ninety four."

Hermione raised her hand, "Um, excuse me Professor, but we were about to talk about Grindylows, and that chapter is about werewolves."

Snape smiled nastily. Neville scrunched lower in his seat and could be heard muttering '_bikini… bikini…' _over and over again.

"I am well aware of that Miss Granger, and if you would shut your big mouth I could get on with my lesson."

Hermione's lip quivered.

Harry was shocked, "Can he say that? Isn't there some sort of law or something? We should protest!" Harry held up a picket sign that said **STUDENTS ARE PEOPLE TOO**.

Ron shook his head, "Mate, they're still using the paddle in wizarding schools."

Harry winced and lowered the sign, "Never mind."

"Tell me, Potter, how can you identify a werewolf?"

Harry's head snapped up. "Uh…what?"

"Exactly." Snape pointed to a diagram on the board. "A werewolf will look exactly as you think it wouldn't look. It does not at all resemble a wolf, but looks more like a large rabid monkey." Snape chuckled, "Not that I've ever seen a large rabid monkey…"

Hermione raised her hand.

Snape glared, "Yes?"

"Well, it looks rather like a large rabid monkey, sir."

Harry patted her on the shoulder sympathetically, "It's okay Hermione, you don't have to know everything."

Hermione sniffled, "I…I try so hard."

Snape continued. "And for tonight's homework, I would like you to read the chapter on werewolves and right me a one scroll…"

Harry gasped "An entire scroll!"

"…Make that two scrolls on werewolves for tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like you." Snape sneered.

Ron hunched down in his seat, "This is so unfair. I hate doing all that reading."

Hermione's face brightened, "No, no, Ronald! Reading is like giving birth to kittens!"

Harry blinked at her.

Ron's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "What, you mean furry, painful, and disturbing?"

Hermione shook her head, "Of course not Ronald, what I mean was…" She stopped, confused, "…actually I don't know what I meant."

Snape rolled his eyes and glared at the trio.

The Mini Harry Alarm went off.

"Stupid alarm! I mean…um…what a great present, gee thanks Ron."

* * *

In an opposite corner of Hogwarts…

Professor Dumbledore strolled happily down the corridor, humming the theme from Cats. Little did he know that he was being watched…

Lavender's eyes swiveled from left to right, and settled on Dumbledore. Carefully, she extracted a blowgun from her black tuxedo pocket (don't ask) and put it to her lips. A feather-tipped dart went sailing from the gun and embedded itself in Dumbledore's neck. He felt at it for a second, then dropped to the ground with the surprising clang of stolen cutlery.

Lavender raised her wristwatch to her mouth. "Chief, this is Eagle One. I have taken down Mother Goose and am retrieving the Golden Egg. Ready to complete, over."

She crept toward Dumbledore's blissfully unconscious form, and carefully removed from his head, as if it were a loaded bomb, his propeller hat.

" Mission complete."

* * *

"Albus? Speak to me Albus!" Professor McGonagall waved a hand in front of Dumbledore's unseeing eyes. "For Merlin's sake Albus, wake up!" She slapped him across the face and broke down sobbing.

Dumbledore sat on one of the infirmary beds, as still as…well, someone petrified, only less stony looking.

"It's no use, Minerva, he's gone into shock. The only thing to do is find a replacement." Madame Pomfrey picked up a cloth-wrapped object.

McGonagall's eyes widened. "But will it work?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed, "There's no way to be sure." She carefully unwrapped the cloth to reveal a propeller hat.

"But it's not _his _hat. Will he accept it?" McGonagall bit anxiously at her fingernails.

"We can only hope." She placed the hat on his strangely bare head. The propeller twirled lazily.

"Albus, can you hear me?"

Dumbledore's eyes suddenly snapped open. He giggled. "Your nose looks like a pickle!"

McGonagall smiled primly, "All right, he's back. Keep him here for a day or so, will you? We'd best let him…rest for a while."

Both witches exited the room, leaving Dumbledore to his mutterings.

"Oops, here comes Mr. Jelly!"

* * *

Lavender Brown, holding a rather oddly shaped package wrapped in brown paper, crept up the creaky stairs of the abandoned Riddle house. She came to the room at the end of the hall and stopped. " Mission complete, Chief. I have the package."

A whispery hoarse voice answered her from an armchair across the room. "Very good, Agent 008. Bring me the package, and you may go."

"But Chief, I wanted to be Agent 007!"

The voice wheezed, "I'm afraid that's already been taken."

Lavender shrugged and dutifully laid the package at the foot of the chair, saluted, and backed out of the room.

A shriveled hand reached for the package. There was the sound of brown paper being feebly ripped.

"It's mine. It's finally mine!" The voice coughed throatily, like the creaking of a coffin lid.

Voldemort, still reclining in his chair, placed Albus Dumbledore's propeller hat on his head. He giggled like a schoolboy, while the propeller creaked eerily under the slight push of his shriveled finger.

"Wheeeeeeeee…"

* * *

"Good luck, Harry," said Hermione the next day, heading up into the stands.

"Yeah, go be a hero and be famous and studly and popular and talented and-" Hermione elbowed Ron in the stomach. He winced. "I mean, uh, good luck."

Harry smiled sunnily, "Gee, thanks Ron. That means a lot." He went back and joined the rest of the team. Oliver Wood was already giving his pep talk.

"Now listen up, Gryffindors, we can't loose this one, I mean, it's Hufflepuff. If we got beat by that Loser team-no offense, Harry—"

"None taken," said Harry.

"—we won't be worthy of the good name of Godric Gryffindor. So don't screw up, or I'll raise an angry mob to come hunt you down with torches and pitchforks."

George snorted, "Ha ha, very funny Wood. Seriously, do you think we won't stand up?"

"I do!" Said a strange man in a prison uniform that seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

"I wasn't kidding," said Oliver, totally straight faced, "so don't loose, or I'll feed your guts to the vultures."

Angelina raised her hand, "Um, we don't have any vultures, but I hear Hagrid's got some Hippo—"

Harry slapped his hand over her mouth, "Shhhh! We don't find out about that until next chapter!"

She gasped, "Oh, right. Sorry."

George butted in, "Besides, it's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, there's not a cloud in the sky, and I've just invented…"

"Ahem," interrupted Fred.

"…We've just invented a new candy. It's sure to be a hit."

"Nothing could go wrong, so stop your worrying! You've going to get wrinkles on your wrinkles, mate. Give it a rest. Nothing's going to happen!" Interjected Fred.

Immediately, it started to rain in sheets. Lightening cut the sky like jagged quilt work, and the Gryffindor team was instantly drenched.

"Well, there's always that," admitted George.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle, and everyone launched into the gray sky. Harry headed straight above the action, but was having a difficult time seeing much of anything, let alone the snitch. He darted in between black cloudbanks, all of which seemed eerily to look like a dog's head. Harry glanced down in time to see Wood frantically waving him down onto the field.

"What took you so long; I called time out five minutes ago!" Wood shook the water from his hair angrily. "How's it up there? Any luck?"

Harry irritably swung aside his rain-soaked cloak. "I can't see anything, not with my glasses. They start to fog up five feet off the ground! I mean, seriously, what am I supposed to do?"

"I can help!" Hermione suddenly popped up from nowhere.

"For the last time, NO, I DID NOT CALL YO—oh, hey Hermione. I thought you were…someone else." Harry looked around suspiciously, "So you said you could help?"

Hermione nodded and pointed her wand at Harry's glasses. "_Impervious!_"

Harry took off the glasses and inspected them. Tiny windshield wipers had appeared on the brims. "Wow, thanks Hermione! Now I can go win us this game!"

Harry looked up to see his teammates glaring at him. "I mean…uh…there's no ME in TEAM, right guys?"

Oliver, on the other hand, looked so happy that Hermione had helped that he could kiss her. So he did.

Hermione giggled. "Oh, Oliver, this is so sudden!"

Ron, from up in the stands, started shouting. "KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEN…I mean, uh I DON'T LIKE HER, OKAY!"

Wood rolled his eyes and pushed off back into the air. Everyone else followed suit. Except Hermione, of course, but well, you get the idea.

It was easier to see with Hermione's spell on his glasses, but he was still freezing cold. And to top it all off, he'd lost the snitch. Harry, feeling very sorry for himself, started singing quietly.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head, they keep falling."

Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker, who has no significance whatsoever other than to exist in this moment, how dare you even think such a thing, suddenly streaked by him as if he had seen the snitch. Harry sped after Cedric, leaning farther on the broom to pick up speed.

A sudden chill danced down his spine. Raindrops froze into tiny crystals and shattered on his head and hands. Harry looked down to see hundreds of dementors swooping across the Quidditch field and up towards him. Harry started to loose grip on his broom. Green lights flashed before his eyes.

"**_Not Harry! Please not Harry!"_**

"**_Oh, ok, I'll just floo over to your second cousin's, _** **_Chad_****_ Potter, and kill him instead!" _**

"**_Oh…that would be nice-"_**

"**_Move aside you silly girl!"_**

"**_I am silly-aren't I?"_**

"**_Avada Kedravra!"_**

Harry felt a scream rip from his throat, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—" Harry stopped midfall, "Wow, I really do this a lot…OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

A recently recuperated Dumbledore sat in the Teachers' Box along with Professor McGonagall.

He smiled vaguely, his propeller spinning crazily in the wind, "I say, what's that?" His finger followed a dark speck falling like a stone from the clouds.

McGonagall gasped, "Albus, it's a student!"

Dumbledore blinked, "Oh…that's nice."

"Albus, do something!"

"Hmmm…oh, right!" He lazily pointed his wand at the falling figure. A jet of purple light shot from the end.

And went a little too far to the right.

Dumbledore blinked. "Oh, I missed."

The figure hit the ground with an unpleasant splashy sound.

Dumbledore jumped up and down and clapped his hands. "Ooh, pretty colors!"

Professor McGonagall massaged the start of a migraine. They could only hope that it wasn't Katie. Her parents were lawyers.

* * *

"Did you see that fall, it was bloody brilliant!"

"Ron, stop it, Harry could be dead, and you're joking."

"Sorry, Hermione…but that was so bloody brilliant!"

Harry drifted lazily on the fluffy pink cloud of Dreamland. Then suddenly the cloud shaped itself into the shape of the Grim and started to rain. There was a flash of green light.

"**_I am silly, aren't I?"_**

"NOOOOOOOO!" Harry's eyes snapped open and he woke with a start.

Hermione's tear stained face swam into view. "Harry! You're all right!"

"Apparently."

Ron smiled, "That fall was bloody brilliant mate!"

Harry grimaced, "Yeah, I heard. What happened?"

Ron's eyes lit up. "You want the play by play? Ok, so you were like Fly…and the dementors were like Whoosh…and you were like Ahhh!…and then you were like Splat…and I was like Wicked!…and Hermione was like Ron!…and then your broom-" Ron held up some shattered fragments of wood, "-was like Boom! Yeah, it was bloody brilliant."

Harry's mouth hung open. "My…my…my broom..."

Hermione shrugged her head, "It flew into the Whomping Willow."

Ron shook his head sympathetically, "It never had a chance. Poor little broom."

Hermione patted him on the shoulder, "Hey, at least your fainting count is up. Good job, Harry, keep those numbers up!"

Harry held the shattered fragments of his faithful broom, his eyes brimming with tears. This was almost as bad as the time Dudley had stolen Teddy, his favorite mop. "My…my broom…"

* * *

"Professor?" Later that day, Harry knocked on Professor Lupin's door. Harry knew he wasn't too bright, but what he did know what that the dementors were having a strange effect on him, and if anyone would know what to do, Lupin would.

"Who is it?" Sung a shrill voice with a wavering vibrato. It sounded disturbingly like a chipmunk.

"Professor? It's Harry."

"Oh yes," the voice cleared its throat and lowered an octave, "I mean, um, yes, come in Harry."

When Harry rounded the corner, he saw Lupin frantically stuffing some sort of smoking device under a cushion. It dripped with chocolate syrup. "Yes, what can I do for you, Harry?"

"Um, I was hoping you could teach me how to fend off dementors now? After what happened today…"

Lupin nodded, "Ah yes, I had heard about that. I learned from one rather enthusiastic student that it was a 'bloody brilliant fall'."

"Could you teach me today?" Harry looked hopefully at Lupin.

He sighed. "I suppose so. Follow me."

Lupin led him into a large room with bone shaped candles and a large metal chest in the middle. Harry's eyes seemed drawn to it. Every few seconds it would rock as if something inside was trying to get out.

"It's a boggart?" Said Harry.

"Very good! And they said you weren't smart." Lupin beamed at him.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, then realized it was true. "I guess so."

Lupin circled the chest, "Now, when I open the chest, say the spell _Expecto Patronum_ loudly and clearly, and think of something happy."

"Happy, right." Harry raised his wand and waited.

Lupin opened the chest.

A lone dementor drifted out of the open chest, advancing on Harry with open, skeletal hands.

Harry raised a quivering hand. Think about flying, think about flying.

"_Expecto…_"

**_"That was lame."_**

"**_Shut up!" _**

"**_Ok, ok, just get on with it."_**

"**_Ha, Potter, you blood-traitor. You will never see your loved ones again- _Avada Kedavra_!"_**

"_Expect…Exp…Ex…"_ Harry felt himself falling again.

* * *

"Harry, Harry eat this chocolate." Harry opened his eyes to see Lupin standing over him with a bar of chocolate.

Harry backed up. "Hey man, I don't do chocolate."

Lupin smiled persuasively, "Come on, just one bite. You'll love it."

"Oh yeah, then what next, huh? Truffles? Toffee! No way man, I'm above the influence. Coco is a no-no!"

"Did they teach you that in school? Fine fine. Whatever, man." Lupin backed off, a piece of chocolate bulging in his cheek. "You want to try again?"

Harry nodded. "Open it."

Harry thought of the feeling of flying as the dementor advanced.

**_"Potter? What kind of name's Potter?"_**

**_"What kind of a name's Pooter?"_**

**_"…_****Avada Kedavra_!"_**

* * *

Harry woke up to the smell of chocolate. "Wha-? For the last time, no, I don't want any chocolate!"

Lupin smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

Harry sat up, frustrated, "I don't get it. I'm usually good at Defense stuff. I mean, I'm a complete loser at anything else, but Defense and flying are what I'm good at."

"Don't worry, this is a very complicated spell. Maybe you are too delicate…"

"No, I'm not delic—ouch, I broke a nail!" Harry's lip trembled.

Lupin continued, undaunted while Harry nursed his chipped nail, "Maybe you aren't using a strong enough happy feeling. Don't choose stupid things like, oh I don't know, flying or something, choose something very important to you."

Harry nodded, "All right, I know my thought. Open it."

The chest creaked open and the black-robed dementor drifted out.

Mops, thought Harry, mops. Think about mops.

**_"Not Harry!"_**

**_"That was lame."_**

**_"Stop it!"_**

**_"My baby!"_**

**_"Harry."_**

**_"Harry!"_**

**_"HARRY!"_**

"_Expecto Patronum!_" A whisp of vapor emitted from the end of the wand, pushing the dementor back into the chest.

"_Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patrunom! EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECT-_"

Lupin grabbed Harry by the shoulders, "Harry! It's all right, you got him!"

"_EXPECT…_oh, really? I…I did it? I'm not a loser!" Harry's eyes lit up.

"No, no, you're still that."

Harry slouched.

"But you're less of a loser now than when you stepped in this room." Lupin smiled, "And that's something to work toward."

Harry glowed with inner pride. "I have a dream!"

* * *

"Bye Harry, we'll be back this evening!"

"And I promise I'll bring you something this time, mate."

They held hands and started to skip to Hogsmeade. Ron suddenly dropped her hand.

"I DON'T LIKE HER OKAY, SO JUST DROP IT!"

Hermione stalked off.

"Um, Hermione? Look, Harry, I'll see you later. Hermione? What'd I say?"

Harry kicked a rock. "Yeah, sure." Harry picked up the rock and chucked it one of the bunnies.

"Stupid vermin!"

He missed and hit Professor Dumbledore squarely in the back of the head. He turned to face Harry with tears in his eyes, "Harry…but I thought…there was no call for that…I…I…". He ran off to Hogsmeade, sobbing.

"No wait, I didn't mean you! Look, I'm sorry, okay? Prof…Professor?" He sighed and headed back for the Common Room, nothing was going right today. If only he could just get into Hogsmeade…I mean, it wasn't as if he had some way of making himself invisible to get through the borders unnoticed. If only there were some type of cloak that could make him invisible…

Nope, still nothing.

* * *

As Harry was walking around the recently larger grounds dejectedly, he was so busy trying not to trip over his own feet, that he ran into Fred and George.

"Hey mate, didn't see you there," said George.

"Yeah," said Fred, "It was almost as if you were wearing some sort of Cloak of Invisibility or something."

Harry shrugged, "I was just trying to figure out a way to get into Hogsmeade."

George looked at him, "Well, haven't you got an Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, so what's your point?"

Both twins blinked.

"Well…" said Fred, struggling to find something helpful to say, "…who needs an Invisibility Cloak anyway? Hey George, I bet he'd do well to use the Map."

George smacked his head, "Of course. Here, follow us Harry."

The twins led Harry around the corner, where Fred drew a yellowed piece of parchment from his bag.

Harry squinted at the ancient writing.

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder's Map? What is it exactly? And who are they?"

George shrugged, "I dunno, but we owe them everything. This is a map of the entire school, and all the tunnels below it. It shows the secret passageways, the locations of all the teachers, everything!"

"We found it our first year," interrupted Fred, "In Filch's office. We've been using ever since, but now mate; I think you need it more than we do."

Harry stared intently at the parchment. "How do I use it?"

"Here," said George, "you just tap it with your wand and say…"

The twins spoke together, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, or perhaps a little good, but not much really."_

The map unfolded itself to reveal a complete and detailed map of Hogwarts. A legend bearing the name 'Snivellus Snape, the Little Twit', was pacing in the dungeons while a label saying 'Professor McGonagall' was standing in the Great Hall next to a rather large label reading 'Rubeus Hagrid'.

"It's…it's a map of the whole school, with the locations of all the teachers, and everything!" Harry was extremely excited. With this map, maybe he could find someone who would tell him how to get into Hogsmeade unnoticed!

"Yeah, that's what I just said," said George, looking a little annoyed. "Now, all you have to do to seal it is say _Mischief managed, or satisfactorily mananged, or not really managed at all really, Remus cut it out, sorry._

Harry frowned, "Why say all that?"

Fred shrugged, "I dunno, we don't question their brilliance. Use the map well, Harry."

Harry smiled nervously, "Oh, ok. But, um…how will this get me to Hogsmeade?"

_

* * *

_

**_Oddly_**


	21. To Hogsmeade

21! 21! Bust out the booze! Wait? What? You don't have to wait till your 21 in England? Well this is an English story…TO THE QUEEN!

That Loser

**Chapter 21: To Hogsmeade**

It was troubling, for Harry; how in the world would he ever make it out of Hogwarts to Hogsmeade? Oh, the map was cool and all, but Harry thought the Weasley's had a weird way of trying to raise his sprits, why hadn't they just shown him a secret passage way to Hogsmeade instead?

He just wished he had some sort of...of...item that would make him invisible...maybe clothing of non-seeingness. Like a, like a..._cloak_. Yeah, a cloak of..._invisibility_...

But that didn't really matter, because Harry was on a mission, a mission he would complete no matter what; he would not be mocked anymore by those happy fluffy bunnies..._damn them_...

So Harry began searching around the castle and the grounds for a secret passageway out of Hogwarts. Passing the statue of a hump-backed one-eyed witch, who appeared to have not been pressed all the way against the wall and left a big hole wide open in the castle, Harry scoffed. Someone needed to fill in that big-convient-holes-that-lead-out-of-Hogwarts-and-could-also-be-used-as-a-secret-passageway-to-Hogsmeade, there would be a draft. Harry quickly moved onto the next floor, not wanting to catch a cold.

While on the fifth floor, and frantically looking for a way to Hogsmeade, Harry was shocked to find Professor Lupin, with a bag of Milk Duds clutched tightly in his hand, walking down the hallway.

"Professor!"

Lupin froze, quickly opening a door and throwing the bag into the random empty classroom. "Uh…I...uh, Harry! Hi!"

"Hey, Professor," Harry jogged towards him. "What are you doing up here?"

"Ooohhh……" Lupin drug out the word, nonchalantly whipping the big chocolate stain off his face. "A little of this, a little of that…you now, Justice, Peace, and the American Wa— British Way."

There was an awkward silence as Harry searched for something to say and Lupin stared intensely at the random empty classroom's door handle.

"So…Harry, why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

"Oh! Well, um, you see Professor, my, ah-I…um…I never got my form signed."

Silence.

"…So…?"

"Well I can't go then, can I?"

Lupin gawked at him for a couple seconds, then burst into laughter. "Merlin! Harry! I didn't really think you were _that much of a loser!_"

Harry frowned, wondering how the chocoholic had any right to judge him.

"I mean—really!" he continued, "Not having the form signed! Why has that stopped you? Any normal kid would find a way to get to Hogsmeade anyways!"

Harry quietly waited for his DADA professor's ear-splitting laugher to subside.

"Ok! Ok!" he gasped, leaning on Harry's shoulder. "Here's what I'll do for you, since I knew your dad and all. Oh, hey! Have I ever mentioned you look a lot like him? Uncanny, really, it is, really, but your eyes; Lily's of course…well _not_ really, per say, _Lily's_ that would be kinda weird, and a little disgusting—actually, how do I know their not Lily's? They look exactly like hers…same shape too…MY GOD HARRY WHY WOULD YOU STEAL LILY'S EYEBALLS? YOUR _MOTHER!_ FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!"

"—Professor?"

"I MEAN REALL—oh look, they're not green anymore. Well. As I was saying…since you can't seem to get to Hogsmeade, I'll give you this little tip; Filch isn't guarding the gate to Hogsmeade any more!" And with that, he threw his hands up, beaming, as if he had just done Harry a great service.

"That's great Professor, but what does that have to do with me getting to Hogsmeade—?"

"Look, Harry, I don't have time to chat; maidens to save, people to avenge, tyrants to overthrow…I'll be seeing you." He quickly darted away, into an empty random classroom.

Harry stood there, still not in Hogsmeade, and terribly confused. WHY WOULDN'T ANYONE HELP HIM GET TO HOGSMEADE!

And grumbling, he marched away, hearing weird echoing sounds from a random empty classroom.

" Coco, my love, I'll never forsake you!"

* * *

Two hours later, and still wondering around the castle looking for a way into Hogsmeade, we find Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Would-Have-Failed-First-Year-Without-Hermione.

Harry was sitting dejectedly against a suit of armor, ready to begin his angst-filled monologue, when out of the shadows…popped Professor Dumbledore.

"Harry." He addressed him sternly, straightening the frills on the handle bars of his tricycle. "I'm been stalking you and—"

"WAIT! YOU FOLLOW ME AROUND? WHA?" Harry gasped, jumping to his feet. "WHERE HAS THE EVIDENCE OF THAT BEEN LURKING ALL THESE YEARS? YOU'VE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO TELL ME THIS! LIKE WHEN YOU MYSTERIOUSLY APPEARED IN MY FIRST YEAR IN THE ROOM WITH THE MIRROR OF ERISED! OR LATER WHEN YOU SAVED ME FROM THAT ROOM WHERE QUIRRELL DIED, HAVING NO INFORMATION THAT I WAS DOWN THERE?"

"Um…yeah…Anyways, I've noticed you've been having trouble, finding a way to Hogsmeade, and even though I said that no one with their permission form not signed could go to Hogsmeade, I decided to bend the rules for you. Like that rule about no wondering around the school after hours, and wondering around the grounds after hours, and creating illegal potions in and after hours, and that whole student-teacher, bend the grades relationship-thingy…so…you have my permission to go to Hogsmeade."

Harry sneered, rolling his eyes. "That's great, Dumbledore, but how in the world am I going to _get_ to Hogsmeade? Huh! Didn't thing of _that_ did ya?"

"For Merlin's beard, Boy! You can walk past Filch and GO TO HOGSMEADE."

"THAT'S JUST FINE AND DANDY, BUT HOW DOES THAT GET ME _INTO_ THE TOWN?"

"ARE YOU REALLY THAT—?" Dumbledore abruptly stopped, groaned, and grabbed onto Harry's arm, and with a whooshing sensation, they popped out of Hogwarts and appeared on the Main Street of Hogsmeade.

"WOW! I'm in Hogsmeade! But sir, you can't apparate out of Hogwarts…"

"Yes I can."

"No…no you can't, Hermione said that—"

"I think I know more than Ms. Granger, Harry."

"But it even says so in Hogwarts, A History, see?" Harry held up a book, pointing to a bold and underlined passage on page one.

"LALALALALA! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Dumbledore promptly stuffed his fingers in his ears and disapparated away.

Now alone, and finally in Hogsmeade, Harry looked eagerly about him, searching for Ron and Hermione.

And then he spotted them, walking past Zonko's and heading towards Honeydukes; Hermione marching prissily, holding an empty paper bag, berating Ron, and Ron slumping along, his head down in shame.

"I told you this bag was for Harry! And look what you've done! You ate all of it! Now we have to walk ALL the way back to Honeydukes and buy some MORE. HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL RON? DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD THAT YOU CAN SINGLE-HANDEDLY EAT HARRY'S BAG OF CANDY IN LESS THAN FIFTEEN MINUTES WITHOUT FEELING ANY REMORSE?"

"I'm sorry Hermione, I—"Ron suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring down at the ground…still. "Look Hermione! Look!"

Hermione bent her head around Ron, to glance at what he was pointing to. "Yeah…what's your point?"

"Oh what would you know, you're a Muggleborn! But this is very important in the Wizarding community!" He scooped down and picked up the object. "You know what they say! Find a Knut, pick it up, and all day long you'll have a Knut." He beamed proudly at her, "See?"

"Yes…that's very…Harry!" Hermione had looked up from her patronizing comment to see Harry walking over to join them.

"Oh, Hey Harry!" Ron waved, the Knut still in his hand. "How'd you get here?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it if I told you." Harry confessed. "It was a chilling test of all my magical, intellectual, and physical skills, just to sneak away from Hogwarts."

"Well, since you're here, we might as well get a drink, now that we don't have to buy you that candy." Hermione pointed at the Three Broomsticks.

"What! Of course you still have to buy me candy!"

* * *

"Three Butterbeers, please." Hermione addressed Madam Rosmerta, as the three third years crowded around a table in the back, off in a far corner.

The inside of the Three Broomsticks was covered in Christmas decorations; getting ready for the holidays, every three tables had a seven foot Christmas Tree and the walls were hung with dancing fairy lights.

"So, anything interesting happen while we were away?" Ron asked conversationally, staring as Rosmerta pranced around delivering drinks in sparkly red high heels.

"Oh, yeah. Now that you mention it, your brothers, Ron, gave me this map…" Harry pulled the map out of his pocket, laying it flat on the table.

"Ahh…Harry, I'm sorry to tell you this…but…that's a blank piece of parchment." Hermione snickered.

"AHAHAHA! You think this is a map?" Ron laughed hysterically. "This is just like that time when you said that that diary was a Horcrux, and that time when you said Quirrell was Voldemort, and that time when you said Dumbledore was hiding a couple super important facts from you!"

Harry frowned, "It is! See? All you have to do is say: '_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, or perhaps a little good, but not much really_.'" Harry pointed his wand at the parchment.

And then, like spider webs, lines began racing from Harry's wandpoint, filling in to make…a map.

"Wow! This blank piece of parchment really is a map!" Hermione gasped, pulling it closer to her.

Ron shrugged, trying to not look impressed. "Well it _is_ Britain…"

"TO THE QUEEN!" The bar chorused, slurping down their tea and throwing the cups on the floor with a satisfying _crash! Tinkle, tinkle._

"Yeah, see? It shows where everyone in the castle and grounds are at at all times, and it also shows little…passage…ways…" Harry trailed off, looking like he had just realized something.

"What is it Harry?"

"I forgot to order a bowl of peanuts!" He cried.

"It's alright," Hermione patted his arm. "I knew you would, so I ordered them for you."

"So Harry, how do you get the map to erase, then?" Ron interrupted, pushing Harry's arm out of Hermione's grasp and inserting his own where Harry's used to be.

"Oh, you, um, say: '_Mischief managed, or satisfactorily managed, or not really managed at all really, Remus cut it out, sorry.'"_

Hermione paused patting Ron's arm to look pensive. "You know, all that wording seems really familiar…somehow…"

The blank map began hurriedly scrawling words. _'Prongs agrees that these three new map owners seem somehow familiar.'_

'_Padfoot concurs with Prongs, and complements Harry on his name.'_

'_Prongs agrees to this, stating: 'I want my son to be named Harry!'.'_

'_Moony reckons Harry is a loser name.'_

'_Wormtail sits in corner looking at a mysterious tattoo on left arm…'_

"Hey look! Wow." Harry pointed at the now, line-filled map. "I bet my dad, James, would have something like this."

'_Prongs is astonished and exclaims that Harry must have a cool dad to be called James, seeing how it is his name too.' _

"Oh, no, you see, he's dead, Voldemort killed him." Harry stated to the map.

'_Prongs nods, looking down at a death note he had just received from Voldemort last week.'_

'_What a coincidence, Padfoot exclaims.'_

"I bet my dad would have liked them." Harry smiled, patting the map.

'_Moony is preoccupied, stuffing his face with chocolate.'_

'_Wormtail is evil, so we don't give him any good speaking parts.'_

Harry smiled, rolling the map back up and stuffing it in his pocket. "Yep, its one cool map."

A Christmas Tree next to their table began violently shaking. _"Edmund…"_

"Did you guys here that?" Hermione looked up, searching the bar. "Oh no!" she screeched. "The professors!"

With a quick shove, Ron and Hermione pushed Harry under the table, then kicked him once to be quiet. Maybe Ron was a little too enthusiastic…Harry thought, dead quiet and still being repeatedly kicked.

Professors McGonagall and Flickwick and Hagrid walked towards the barstool, followed closely by a man in a lime green bowler hat with a shamrock attached to it; the Minister of Magic.

"What can I get ya?" Madam Rosmerta questioned them, notebook in hand.

"A small gillyweed."

"Four pints of mulled mead."

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella!"

"And a red currant rum for me." The Minister finished last.

Seconds later she returned with their order, setting them down on the tabletop.

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," Said Fudge's voice. "Have one yourself, come join us."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Rosmerta tittered, sitting down beside the other four. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?"

"We needed someplace to discuss something very important that no one should ever over hear, so when came to this children's jam-packed bar."

Flickwick nodded, slurping his drink.

"Hark! Should Harry Potter ever hear this, it would kill him—"

"—no meaning for life anymore—"

"—devastate him—"

"—into shock at the very, very, least—"

"—so we have to be careful and very quiet about who we tell—"

"Is it about that rumor! About Sirius Black!"

"Yes! He's been up at Hogwarts, that's the reason for all these dementors!"

"They're living terrors!" McGonagall snapped. "How are we expected to teach with those things floating around!"

"All the same! They are here to protect you all from something much worse! We all know what Black's capable of!"

"You know, I still have trouble believing it!" Rosmerta spoke up. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought!"

"They do have a good dental plan!"

"I mean—" Rosmerta continued. "I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts! If you'd tell me what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead!"

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta!" said Fudge. "The worst he did isn't widely known!"

"NOW WE HAVE TO KEEP THIS NEXT PART QUITE." Hagrid whispered. "DON'T WANT ANYONE TO OVER HEAR, EVEN THOUGH WE ARE IN THE MOST POPULAR BAR IN THE WORLD NEXT TO THE LEAKY CAULDRON."

"SO WHAT'S THE WORST?" Rosmerta murmured. "WORSE THAN MURDERING ALL THOSE POOR PEOPLE, YOU MEAN?"

"YOU SAY YOU REMEMBER SIRIUS BLACK AT HOGWARTS, ROSMERTA?" Fudge quietly questioned her. "DO YOU REMEMBER WHO HIS BEST FRIEND WAS?"

"NATURALLY. NEVER SAW ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER, DID YOU? THE NUMBER OF TIMES I HAD THEM IN HERE—OOH, THEY USED TO MAKE ME LAUGH. QUITE THE DOUBLE ACT, SIRIUS BLACK AND JAMES POTTER!"

Harry screamed loudly. "SHHHH! HARRY JAMES POTTER! YOU HAVE TO BE QUIET! NO ONE CAN KNOW YOU'RE HERE!" Hermione hissed.

"YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT BLACK AND POTTER WERE BROTHERS!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "INSEPARABLE!"

"OF COURSE THEY WERE." Said Fudge. "POTTER TRUSTED BLACK BEYOND ALL HIS OTHER FRIENDS. NOTHING CHANGED WHEN THEY LEFT SCHOOL. BLACK WAS BEST MAN WHEN JAMES MARRIED LILY. THEN THEY NAMED HIM GODFATHER TO HARRY. HARRY HAS NO IDEA, OF COURSE. NONE AT ALL, WHY NO ONE IN THIS HOGWART'S STUDENT RIDDEN BAR WOULD EVEN THINGK OF REPORTING THAT FACT TO HIM, EVEN IF THEY DID OVERHEAR, MAGICALLY, SOMEHOW. I MEAN, THINK OF IT, MAGICALLY OVERHEARING. AHAHAHA! ANYWAYS,…THE IDEA WOULD TORMENT HIM."

"WHAT! BECAUSE BLACK TURNED OUT TO BE IN LEAGUE WITH YOU-KNOW-WHO?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"NO I DON'T KNOW WHO, WHO?"

"YOU KNOW! YOU-KNOW-WHO!"

"WHA?"

"HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED!"

"OH YES, RIGHT. BUT IT'S WORSE THAN EVEN THAT! NOT MANY PEOPLE KNEW THAT THE POTTERS KNEW YOU-KNOW-WHO WAS AFTER THEM. DUMBLEDORE HAD A NUMBER OF USEFUL SPIES, AND ONE OF THEM TIPPED HIM OFF. HE HAD ADVISED THEM TO GO INTO HIDING,THAT THEIR BEST CHANCE WAS TO GO WITH THE FIDELIUS CHARM."

"HOW DOES THAT WORK?" Rosmerta spoke up again.

"AN IMMENSELY COMPLEX SPELL!" Professor Flickwick squeaked. "INVOLVING THE MAGICAL CONCEALMENT OF A SECRECT INSIDE A SINGLE, LIVING SOUL. THE INFORMATION IS HIDDEN INSIDE THE CHOSEN PERSON, OR SECRET-KEEPER, AND HENCEFORTH IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND—UNLESS, OF COURSE, THE SECRET-KEEPER CHOOSES TO DIVULGE IT. AS LONG AS THE SECRET-KEEPER REFUSED TO SPEAK, YOU-KNOW-WHO COULD SEARCH THE VILLAGE WHERE LILY AND JAMES WERE STAYING FOR YEARS AND NEVER FIND THEM, NOT EVEN IF HE HAD HIS NOSE PRESSED AGAINST THEIR WINDOW!"

"SO BLACK WAS THE POTTERS' SECRET-KEEPER?" whispered Rosmerta.

"NATURALLY," said Professor McGonagall. "JAMES POTTER TOLD DUMBLEDORE THAT BLACK WOULD RATHER DIE THAN TELL WHERE THEY WERE, THAT BLACK WAS PLANNING TO GO INTO HIDING HIMSELF…AND YET DUMBLEDORE REMAINED WORRIED, HE WAS SURE THAT SOMEBODY CLOSE TO THE POTTERS HAD BEEN KEEPING YOU-KNOW-WHO INFORMED OF THEIR MOVEMENTS; SUSPECTED THAT SOMEONE ON OUR SIDE HAD TURNED TRAITOR AND WAS PASSING A LOT OF INFORMATION."

"BUT JAMES INSISTED ON USING BLACK," Fudge hissed, continuing the story. "AND THEN, BARELY A WEEK AFTER THE FIDELIUS CHARM HAD BEEN PREFORMED—BLACK BETRAYED THEM."

"FILTHY STINKIN' TURNCOAT!" Hagrid growled. "I MET HIM! MUST HAVE BEEN THE LAST TO SEE HIM BEFORE HE KILLED ALL THOSE PEOPLE! IT WAS ME WHO RESCUED HARRY FROM LILY AND JAMES' HOUSE ATER THEY WERE KILLED! AND SIRIUS BLACK TURNS UP, I DIDN'T KNOW HE'D BEEN LILY AND JAMES'S SECRET-KEEPER, THOUGHT HE'D JUST HEARD THE NEWS, WHITE AND SHAKING HE WAS, AND YOU KNOW WHAT I DID? I COMFORTED THE MURDERING TRAITOR! 'GIVE HARRY TO ME, HAGRID, I'M HIS GODFATHER, I'LL LOOK AFTER HIM." HE SAID. BUT I HAD ORDERS FROM DUMBLEDORE, AND I SAID "NO." _BUT WHAT IF I'D GIVEN HARRY TO HIM? HIS BEST FRIEND'S SON! _WHEN A WIZARD GOES OVER TO THE DARK SIDE, THERE'S NOTHING AND NO ONE THAT MATTER'S TO THEM ANYMORE!"

"BUT HE DIDN'T MANAGE TO DISAPPEAR, DID HE?" Rosmerta spoke up in satisfaction. "MINISTRY CAUGHT UP WITH HIM THE NEXT DAY!"

"ALAS, IF ONLY WE HAD," said Fudge, bitterly. "IT WAS NOT WE WHO FOUND HIM. IT WAS LITTLE PETER PETTIGREW—ANOTHER FRIEND OF THE POTTERS'. MADDENED BY GRIEF, NO DOUBT, AND KNOWING THAT BLACK HAD BEEN THE POTTERS' SECRET-KEEPER, HE WENT AFTER BLACK HIMSELF."

"PETER DIED A HERO'S DEATH. EYEWITNESSES, THEY SAID HE WAS SOBBING, "LILY AND JAMES, SIRIUS! HOW COULD YOU?" AND THEN HE WENT FOR HIS WAND, WELL OF COURSE BLACK WAS FASTER, BLEW PETER TO SMITHEREENS. I WAS ON JOB AT THE TIME, FIRST ON THE SCENE…I—I WILL NEVER FORGET IT. A CRATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET, SO DEEP IT HAD CRACKED THE SEWER BELOW. BODIES EVERYWHERE. MUGGLES SCREAMING. AND BLACK STANDING THERE LAUGHING, WITH WHAT WAS LEFT OF PETTIGREW IN FRONT OF HIM…A HEAP OF BLOODSTAINED ROBES…AND—AND A FINGER—" Fudge paused. "BLACK'S BEEN IN AZKABAN EVER SINCE…THEN…WELL YOU KNOW."

"BUT WHAT HAS HE BROKEN OUT TO DO? REJOIN YOU-KNOW-WHO?"

"I DARESAY THAT IS HIS—ER—EVENTUAL PLAN." Said Fudge evasively.

And with muffled good-byes, the conversation ended and one by one, five pairs of feet disappeared from sight.

"Harry, what's so funny?" Ron and Hermione's faces appeared under the table.

"I'm not laughing!"

"Oh…hiccups?"

"NO!"

A pregnant pause.

"Are you sure you're not laug—?"

"HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!" Harry threw his hands into the air, screaming as tears and mascara tracks ran down his cheeks. "HE WAS THEIR FRIEND! AARRGGHHHH! AR! AR! ARRRRRGGGH! I'LL FIND HIM! ARRRRR! AND WHEN I DO! I'LL KILL HIM! ARGH! ARGH! BECAUSE I'M GOIN—"

"**_SPPPPPPPIIIIIDDDDDDERRRRS!"_**

"Merlin, Ron! I'm trying to monologue, here!"

Ron looked up meekly, his hands still waving over his head. "Sorry…hehehe…uh…Knut?"

* * *

The next day in Care of Magical Creatures class with Hagrid, Harry was still as moody as ever.

"Come on, Harry." Hermione begged him. "Stop being so self-centered! There's worse things, _LIKE ME FAILING THIS PACTICE EXAM IF YOU DON'T GET YOU HEAD OUT OF YOUR—"_

"**_SPPPIDDERRRRSSSS!"_**

Hermione sighed, "I knew we were too close to the forest."

Hagrid appeared from the back of his hut, a leash in his hand. "Okay, today class, we are going to be studying—!" He tugged on the leash and…he tugged harder…nothing. He turned his back to the class, planted his feet on the ground and using both hands, yanked—and out walked the strangest creature Harry had ever seen. Well, besides Snape.

It was half horse, half bird; stomping his hooves angrily on the ground and rolling his eyes madly, there was foam dripping from his mouth.

"A Hippogriff! Isn't he adorable?" Hagrid cooed.

The class hastily leaped back from the evil-looking creature, which had a hit list and checkmarks between his talons.

"Now, the thing you gotta remember about Hippogriffs, is that they are mighty proud creatures, so when you approach them, bow, remaining eye contact, mind. And they should bow back, then you can pet them. And if not—well that's not very important right now…"

Hagrid beamed at his class. "Now, any volunteers?"

The students erupted into a huge fight, yelling and pushing, until finally, a body was pushed out of the mob with the scream of: "SACRIFICE!"

Draco Malfoy stumbled to his feet, his face draining of any little color he had, and peered up, terrified at his impending doom.

"Go on, Malfoy." Hagrid pushed him closer, "Be gentlemanly, give him a bow."

Malfoy was so gentlemanly that he gave him a curtsy, and offered the bird a box of chocolates.

The hippogriff's mad eyes flashed red, and screeching, it reared up, and came down…biting Malfoy's arm off.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Must be Snape's fault." Ron leaned forward, munching on a bowl of popcorn. "When ever something bad happens, Snape's _always_ behind it."

Harry mutely watched Draco withering around on the ground. "Hmm? Really? Oh! That must be why Hermione's like the way she is! It's Snape's fault!"

"Yeah." Ron nodded, reaching in for another hand of kernels. "And that's why you are such a loser."

Harry gasped, turned to look at Ron, then quickly pulled out a list:

**_Guy who bought mop #12854 on eBay before me_**

**_Voldemort_**

**_Dursleys_**

**_Sirius Black_**

**_Snape_**

He underlined Snape's name, then for good measure, did the same for the first person on his list.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shrieked. "Malfoy needs to go to The Hospital Wing!"

Hagrid laughed. "Oh, Hermione, you don't know student antics, like I do. He's clearly over exaggerating! I mean, it's just a scratch!"

Malfoy screamed louder, now in a tug-o-war match over his amputated right arm.

"Ok! Now that we know how to approach a Hippogriff, who wants to ride one?"

Another sacrifice had to be made. Harry was thrusted out of the group.

"IT'S SNAPE!" Ron yelled after at him.

"Ok, Harry, now, up we go!"

Hagrid snapped the branch that Harry was clinging to, and bawling, sat Harry atop of the bird/horse.

"Remember me for what I was." Harry sniffed.

"What? A loser!" A random voice from the crowd yelled out, crunching on a Chocolate Frog and sounding awfully familiar…

"Go Buckbeak!" Hagrid slapped its rear and hastily stepped back.

With a bird-like screech, Buckbeak reared, flaying his forelegs, then dropped to the ground and bucked, sending Harry's glasses flying…and away they flew, Up, up, up, over the tree tops and towards the school, the landscape a blur to Harry, now glasses-less.

They were soaring over the Great Lake now…and Harry was caught up with a sudden urge he hadn't felt since crossing the Lake in his first year…Harry sat up, flung his arms wide open and hollered excitedly. "LOOK JACK! I'M FLYIN—"

Buckbeak had chosen that moment to abruptly rear upwards, sending Harry flying himself, falling towards the Lake.

With a _SMACK_ Harry hit the surface of the Lake, eagle-spread, then slowly sunk into the deep icy waters.

* * *

Eight hours later, Harry squished into the Great Hall, pulling off suction cups of the Giant Squid and stomping over to the Gryffindor Table.

Ron looked up, noticing a dripping onto of his head. "Oh! Hey, Harry! Where've you been?"

Harry slumped wetly onto the bench next to Ron, Hermione pulling off a piece of seaweed from his shoulder.

"I would have been here sooner." He finally rasped. "But I went the wrong way and walked to Hogsmeade, I was sleeping inside the Shrieking Shack for an hour before I realized it wasn't the Gryffindor Common Room."

Ron laughed weakly. "Oh…yeah…well here's your glasses."

Glaring, wordlessly, Harry took them from Ron.

"Hey! You know its all Snape's fault!"

Harry reached inside his robes and pulled out a soaking piece of parchment:

**_Guy who bought mop #12854 on eBay before me_**

**_Voldemort_**

**_Dursleys_**

**_Sirius Black_**

**_Snape_**

Adding the name: Hagrid, and underlining Snape's, again.

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	22. In Which Ron Has a Little Accident

Hello Readers, thanks for readering…yep, that's all.

NOTE TO READERS AND TO THE COMPANY THAT CREATED THE SWIFER DESPOSABLE MOP: I don't own aforementioned mop, or the rights to said mop. So don't call me saying you want mops, cause I just don't have any, okay!

That Loser

**Chapter 22: In Which Ron Has a Little Accident**

It was a very black, angsty Christmas Eve morning for a certain boy hero as he sulked around Hogwarts. The castle was decked out in Christmas décor, with a light snow falling from the ceilingless heights of the Great Hall. Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, and glared at his eggs, imagining the gaunt face of Sirius Black sneering at him from the yellowy mass of farm-grown goodness.

Ron and Hermione approached the breakfast table, with Hermione still trying to juggle her books and straighten Ron's robes.

"Ron, they're all crooked. Here…" She gave them a sharp yank, and her giant Arithmancy book and a strange gold locket fell to the ground with an enormous thud, and a tiny echoing tinkle. Hermione quickly stooped to pick them up as Ron sat down next to Harry.

Ron stared at Harry with his mouth open.

Harry was laughing maniacally and spearing the eggs with a steak knife. He then stuffed the eggs into his open, slightly foaming mouth. His left eye and right hand holding the knife twitched compulsively.

"Hello Harry, I was just going over some Charms homework and…Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry blinked, then swallowed a huge lump of mutilated egg, "Um, eating the enemy?"

"No, no, Harry, that's not how you should face this problem!"

Harry frowned and held up a poorly sewn, mini dummy of Sirius. "Voodoo dolls?"

Ron nodded, and gave Harry a thumbs up, "Awesome!"

Hermione sighed and sat down, "No! Bad Ron, encouraging Harry in evil is bad!"

She took out a spray bottle full of water and promptly squirted Ron on the nose.

Ron screamed and pawed at his nose, "Get it off!"

Hermione patted Harry on the shoulder as Ron pranced around madly in circles with his eyes crossed, "Oh Harry, I know you want revenge on Black after somehow overhearing that very secret conversation in the Three Broomsticks, but you've got to let it go."

Harry pounded his fist on the table, making the cutlery jump into the air in righteous anger, "I can't just let him go free, I want Justice, I want Order, I want Another Cup of Pumpkin Juice!"

A house elf appeared, poured another glass of pumpkin juice, and disappeared.

Harry smiled. "Mmm, pumpkin juice. Anyways…I'll not just forget about what he did to my parents. Nothing will distract me from this—hey look, a package!" An owl flew into the Great Hall with a large, oblong package.

"You know, this kind of reminds me of my first year, when I got my Nimbus Two…two…two…" Harry's eyes suddenly shone with tears, "…two…two…THOUSAND!" He collapsed, sobbing onto the table.

Colin Creevy popped up out of the inobscurity of being a minor character to take a picture of Harry watering the Christmas trees and holly with his tears of longing.

_Click._**Flash!**

"Albus, for Merlin's sake, put it back on, there are children in the room!"

Dumbledore blushed, "Sorry Minerva."

Ron had finally wiped the water out of his eyes and sat down next to Harry and Hermione. "Open it, maybe it's a new broom!" Ron stared at the mysterious package.

Hermione gasped, "Maybe someone sent you some books and study aides!"

Ron snorted, "Yeah, right. Open it, mate!"

Harry opened the brown wrapping paper with trembling hands. Against his own wishes, he was actually starting to hope. Could it be…? The last of the wrapping paper came off to reveal a shining new broom. Harry recognized it immediately. It was the broom he had spent most of his time in Diagon Alley looking at, The Firebolt. It was the best, fastest broom in use; even the best Quidditch teams in the world use it!

Ron's eyes were possibly bigger even than Harry's. "NO WAY HARRY, YOU'VE GOTTEN A REALLY COOL BROOM FROM AN ANNONYMOUS SOURCE, AS IF IT WERE MEANT TO BE A TRAP OR SOMETHING! CAN I RIDE IT?"

Hermione quickly clapped his hand over Ron's mouth as Professor McGonagall turned questioningly in their direction. "We need to discuss this somewhere private, come on Harry."

"Harry, didn't you ever consider that someone could have put a curse on the broom," said Hermione, now that the three friends were gathered secretly in the Gryffindor Common Room. The interior was plastered with **Pluck the Ravens! **Posters for the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.

"Nonsense!" Ron petted the streamlined broom lovingly, "It's perfectly safe."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Well, I _was _talking to Harry."

Harry yanked the broom out of Ron's hands, "Give me that! And about the whole…cursing thing…I don't think so. I mean, who would want to curse me?"

Ron shrugged, "Well, let's check the list:

_**Guy who bought mop #12854 on eBay before me**_

_**Voldemort**_

_**Dursleys**_

_**Sirius Black**_

_**Snape**_

_**Hagrid **_

"Yup, that just about covers it." Ron nodded, satisfied, then gasped. "It must be Snape! Snape did it!"

Harry gasped, betrayed. "You stole my list!" He snatched back the list and wrote Ron at the bottom. Then drew a graphic picture of Snape being eaten by Buckbeak.

"Seriously Harry, you really should tell Professor McGonagall about the broom. Sirius Black could have sent it!"

"Doubt it," said a strange man in prison garb, popping up out of nowhere.

"He's not going to say anything!" shouted Ron, "This is my broom…I mean his broom…and it's awesome, and you can't just give it away like that! What if it really is cursed? She'd take it away!"

"No, if it was cursed, Harry could be dead," said Hermione seriously.

Ron nodded sagely. "Well, there's always that…but we'd totally win the game!"

"Ron! What matters more, Harry's life or…or Quidditch?"

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes as one, "Quidditch, of course!"

Ron put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, so bright, yet so clueless."

A choir of monks began to sing mysteriously in the background.

"The ancient art of Quidditch is the most important thing in life. It must be continued. Quidditch is more important than me, than you, than Harry, even than homework."

Hermione shrugged off his arm, "That's preposterous!" She clutched her textbooks tight to her chest, "Nothing is more important than you, my darlings." She blinked, as if coming out of a trance. "Well…well if you won't tell her, I will!"

Hermione stalked off, leaving the room empty expect for Ron, Harry, and some monks.

Harry nodded to one of the Quidditch monks, "Nice robe."

* * *

"What, you're confiscating my broom!" Harry broke out into a cold sweat and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Oh, honestly, Mister Potter, get a hold of yourself! Now, about the match—"

Ron scowled at her, "Haven't you done enough!" He grabbed Quidditch Through the Ages and fanned Harry.

"Who…who told you about my broom?" Harry gasped.

Ron clucked, "No no, don't try to talk."

Somewhere on the opposite side of the Common Room, Hermione tried to shrink down behind her book, Famous Traitors of World History: Benedict Arnold and Beyond. The book was upside down.

"Please Mister Potter, just listen! Your broom will be inspected, probably have to be stripped—"

Ron gasped, "I'm appalled!"

"—And given a complete check for curses," continued McGonagall. "In the mean time, you'll just have to ride something else in the match. I think we've got a Swifer Wet-Jet mop with removable cleaning pads in the broom shed."

Harry sniffed, "Oh please, that mop's for posers."

"Well, I'm sure mister weasley will have a talk with Wood. I'm sure he can find something for you."

"Hey," said Ron, face red, "How come Harry gets capitalized, and I don't? I wanna be capitalized too!"

McGonagall sighed, "Not on your life, weasley. Harry is special, He's the Chosen O-oh…I mean, He's just different."

Harry blinked at her.

She laughed nervously, "Happy Christmas!" She hurriedly left the room.

Harry sighed, "And what a great Christmas it's turning out to be…"

* * *

Later in the Dining Hall during Christmas Eve dinner, Oliver Wood blew up.

"WHAT! You had a Firebolt and she took it from you?" Wood's face turned an unhealthy shade of green. "I think I'm going to be sick, stripping a Firebolt! It's just…it's just…"

"Scandalous?" Said Harry.

"Maddening?" Said Ron.

"Sacrilegious?" Offered one of the Quidditch monks. Then the monk snapped, "Oh darn it, vow of silence!" He jumped out of a window.

"NOOOOOOO!" Screamed Harry, "Why must the good die young?"

Ron looked embarrassed, "Dude, relax. It's not like he was a major character or anything."

Harry brightened, "Oh yeah, right."

Wood continued, undaunted, "I will definitely look into this! Hey you!"

Dumbledore, looking very festive with holly braided into his beard and a green and red striped propeller hat, pointed to himself.

Wood waved him off irritably, "No, not you. You!" Professor McGonagall's head jerked up.

_Ding ding. _A wrestling bell rung twice and Wood jumped.

Harry sighed as sounds of fist hitting mouth echoed through the Great Hall, "Well, I'm glad that's settled."

Dumbledore smiled mischievously and offered something to Snape, "Wizard cracker?"

Suspiciously, Snape pulled the string. A stuffed vulture popped out in an explosion of confetti.

"Ha ha! See, it's just like the boggart Snape with the bikini! Ha, it's funny!" Ron shouted with laughter.

Harry turned away from Ron's shame and checked the progress of the wrestling match. Wood had Professor McGonagall in a headlock, although it looked like the spindly old witch had put up a fight. Wood was covered in cuts and had a black eye.

"Say Harry can have his broom back!"

McGonagall huffed for breath; a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, "Never!"

"Say it!"

"Oh Merlin, I hope it's not cursed…all right. But if he blows up, Wood, you are in so much trouble!"

"Done." Wood released his hold and gave Harry a thumbs up.

McGonagall struggled to her feet.

Wood suddenly looked embarrassed. "Uh, look Professor, about kicking you in the stomach…"

"No no, it's quite all right," she said graciously. "Oh, and by the way, I'll see you in detention."

Wood shrugged, "Ah well, some things are worth taking the fall for."

"Tell me about it," said a slightly squashed voice from somewhere outside the window.

* * *

The next day, Harry was woken up by the sound of Ron screaming. Not again.

"Ron," croaked Harry sleepily, "how many times have I told you, hit the spider with the sledgehammer and go back to sleep!"

"It's not spiders, Harry, it's Scabbers!"

"Well then hit Scabbers with the sledgehammer and go back to sleep!"

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes to see Ron's tearstained face hovering two inches from his nose.

"Its..its…its…its…" Ron's lip quivered.

"What!"

"Come on!" Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him into the girls' dormitory. They stopped in front of Hermione's bed.

Hermione was still asleep sporting a serious case of bedhead and hugging a copy of Hogwarts, A History tightly. She suddenly rolled over and mumbled in her sleep. "Can't…Apparate on Hog…hog…hogwarts grounds…" She woke with a snort, and Ron standing over her holding up his sheets in a clenched fist.

"Look at this!" His eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. He waved the sheets in front of her nose. "Look at it!"

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Ron, did you have another little accident?"

Ron flushed scarlet red, "No, LOOK AT THE BLOODSTAIN!"

Hermione's face was blank, "Oh Ron, if someone hit you with a Gender Changing jinx, I'm sure I can find a counter curse."

A vein pulsed in Ron's temple, "No, YOUR STUPID CAT ATE SCABBERS!"

Hermione shot out of bed, "I demand you take that back! You don't have any proof!"

Unfortunately, Crookshanks, who seemed to have disappeared since his purchase in Diagon Alley, chose this very moment to walk through the room hacking up a furry hairball.

"Aha, there's the killer! Argh!" Ron jumped towards Crookshanks, but of course, Crookshanks had catlike reflexes, and Ron had otherwise,…more like man in a body cast reflexes.

Hermione sighed, "No Ronald, we're going to solve this scientifically." She pulled an x-ray machine out from under her bed. "I picked this up early last year, and thought it might come in handy if you ate another Knut, Harry."

Harry smiled, reminiscing, "Yeah, those are good. Except when they get stuck, then they're not so fun."

"You know Harry, that 'see a Knut and pick it up, and all day long you'll have Knut' thing, you didn't have to swallow the Knut, no one was going to take it from you."

Ron chuckled nervously.

Harry hugged his stomach, "My Knut. I found it. It's mine…my own! _My precious…_"

"Aha!" The x-ray machine glowed a dull green. "Now, let's prove once and for all that Crookshanks did not eat Scabbers!"

Ron looked at the humming machine suspiciously. "Are you sure it's going to work right, I mean," he chuckled, "it is a Muggle invention."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "And my parents are Muggles. Problem?"

Ron looked frantic, "No! No problem!"

"Good." Hermione shifted the machine in front of Crookshanks. His bones glowed faintly, as well as some objects in his stomach. "Hmm…tire, license plate, suit of armor, fishing hooks, shark, Colin Creevy, Harry's Transfiguration homework-"

"And McGonagall didn't believe me when I said the cat ate it. I mean, she was all 'oh, of course Parvati' when she said her homework was eaten by a blast ended screwt…" Harry trailed off in bitter silence, then continued the checklist as Hermione examined an hourglass-shaped locket glowing greenly behind the x-ray.

Harry follow the objects with his finger. "Let's see, Ron's socks, Ron's History of Magic book, Ron's cauldron, Ron…RON!"

There was a glowing, Ron shaped lump in Crookshank's stomach.

Hermione cheered, "Finally!" Then sighed as J. K. Rowling stepped behind her, put a gun to her back, and handed her a cue card. "I mean, oh, whatever will I do without my beloved Ron?"

In the mean time, Harry was trying to give Crookshanks the Heimlich maneuver. "Hold on Ron, just hold your breath and don't touch the…ok, no that's all right, just don't panic…Ron, you're panicking…Ron don't…Ron…Ron?..RON!"

* * *

The next day was the big Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, they would need to win this one to still be in the running, but Harry wasn't worried. He had his brand new, shining Firebolt in his hand. Hermione and Ron cheered him from the stands. Although most of his hair had been eaten away by acid, Ron had just gotten out of the hospital wing and had made it to his game. He hadn't let a full body cast stop him! Harry teared up. He really did have great friends.

Little did Harry know that, at that very moment, he was being watched. In a discrete corner under the Quidditch stands, ten hooded figures whispered quietly under the clink of gold coins.

"I want ten on The Flying Loser's team," whispered a dark voice.

"Five on The Far More Intelligent team," whispered another.

This underground gambling pool had been going on at Hogwarts ever since Quidditch had been invented. It was a very secret organization, a place where wizards could sit back and smoke their pipes without having Muggle children run them down with pamphlets about emphysema. And the betting pool of course was a major part. How does the pool remain a secret?

The bookie pulled in the gold coins, "Any last bets? All right then, enjoy the show gentlemen…and Minerva."

McGonagall nodded, an ivory pipe resting between her teeth.

The bookie pulled down his hood and faced into the wind, his propeller hat spinning. "Let the game BEGIN!"

* * *

Wood was giving his final pep talk as the whistle blew. "And remember Harry, watch the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang." Wood's forehead crinkled in thought, "You know, we've got some really good Seekers this year, I mean, Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Alastor Moody…"

"What, you mean, like the famous Auror?" said Harry, confused.

Wood rolled his eyes, "No, fifth year boy, Alastor Moody. Short with kind of a funny eye?"

Harry shrugged, "Wow, there's actually more than one person in the world with the name Alastor Moody. Who knew?"

Madame Hooch signaled the beginning of the game, "Hurry up Gryffindor, get in the air!"

"Good luck Harry." Wood rocketed toward the goal posts.

Harry pushed off the ground and shot into the air. His new broom was amazing; it easily outmatched the opposite team's Seeker, whose name happens to be Cho Chang. But forget about it, because she never appears again. Ever. Just like Cedric Diggory…and that one guy named Alastor Moody…really, just ignore all Seekers except for Harry.

Harry cruised lightly over the game below. Gryffindor was up by three, but it was still anyone's game.

Cho was flying right next to Harry. "Hi, Harry, isn't it?"

Harry's eyes flickered to her broom, "Comet 260…not worthy."

Cho glared at him, "Well fine then, see if I ever talk to you again."

Harry gasped, "But what if Cho really isn't a meaningless minor character that gets lost in the glow of my greatness?"

Cho raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"What if Cho really is important? Oh, if only I could know right now who will be important and who won't!" Said Harry to himself.

Cho looked behind and around her, confused. "Who are you talking to?"

Harry glanced away from Cho and looked near the Gryffindor goalposts. He spotted a glint of gold and dove. Cho followed close behind. Harry was so focused he almost didn't hear Cho's scream. Distracted, he turned around. Two dementors were gliding across the field.

Up in the stands, Ron did his best to shake his fist while in a body cast, "If we lose this game because of dementors again, I am so blaming Snape!"

Hermione looked confused. "Why, he's sitting right over there, looking perfectly innocent."

In the teacher's stands, Snape sat alone and kept staring at his right forearm and laughing manically. Dumbledore sat down next to him. Snape's head shot up, his eyes wild. "I will destroy you! I mean uh…I can explain!" Snape thought for a moment. "Actually, I can't."

Dumbledore shrugged, "That's all right Severus, I believe without any proof at all, and actually with quite a bit of proof to the contrary, that you are good and loyal to me."

Snape's eye twitched, "I will kill you, you old fool!"

Dumbledore smiled kindly, "I love you too." Then turned back to the game. "COME ON LOSER BOY! I HAVE TEN GALL—uh…I MEAN I BELIEVE IN YOU!"

Back on the Quidditch field, the dementors swooped ever closer.

"No, not again!" Said Harry, monologuing, "I won't fall off my broom this time. I can do this!"

Cho flew up beside him, "No, seriously, who are you talking to?"

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" Shouted Harry, glancing over his shoulder. Something large and silvery fountained from the tip of his wand and galloped toward the dementors. Harry didn't wait to see what happened. He dove quickly and reached out for the snitch. The tiny gold ball brushed his fingertips. With an extra burst of speed, he grabbed the snitch in his fist, and the stands erupted with cheers.

Harry smiled to himself as his Gryffindor teammates lifted him up on their shoulders. "Oh yeah, I rock."

Cho screamed again, "WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO! STOP THE VOICES!"

Suddenly Hermione and Ron were on the field. Hermione slapped him with a large tome: Logical Betting "STUPID CHOSEN ONE HAS TO BE SOOO SPECIAL **ALL** THE TIME! RAVENCLAW HAD IT IN THE BAG—I mean…Harry! I'm so glad you're okay!" Ron was ecstatic. "Harry, that was wicked awesome! I mean, you were like _whoosh_… and the snitch was like _dodge_…and Cho was like _crazy_…and Wood was like-"

"And Malfoy and his crew got caught," said Hermione, interrupting Ron's play by play, "that's always a plus."

"What do you mean?" Harry fought his way out of the crowd of cheering Gryffindors.

"…_awesome_…and you were like _dive_…"

"Over there," pointed Hermione, "in the dementors' robes."

On the opposite side of the field, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were trying to struggle out of some large black robes. Malfoy was standing on top of Crabbe, and kept on tripping. McGonagall seized Malfoy by the ear and lifted him onto his feet. It was too far away to tell, but from the redness of her face, and the sickly look on Malfoy's, they wouldn't be seeing much of him and his thugs for at least two months.

Harry was extremely happy about this until he realized that he hadn't fought actual dementors.

"Don't feel bad about it, Harry," said Lupin, emerging out of the Gryffindor crowd, "it was still a much better Patronus." He chuckled suddenly, reminiscing, "You know, it kind of reminded me of your father. Have I ever told you how much you look like him?"

"Yes…not that it's going to make any difference," sighed Harry.

"No? Well then, you really do look like him, except for your eyes. You've got your mother's eyes."

There was an awkward silence.

"Are you done now?" Asked Harry.

Lupin drew a breath, then exhaled, "Yeah, I got nothing."

* * *

That night, Harry was having an odd dream. His mother was there, and she kept on trying to give him her eyeballs, but he didn't want them. He was too busy trying to steal some chocolate from Lupin.

Harry awoke with a start to the sound of Ron screaming. Again. "Ron! We've discussed this…the sledgehammer, remember?"

"No, Harry its Sirius Black!"

Harry shot out of bed, a huge axe in his hand. "Where!"

Students were waking up and coming to see what the yelling was about.

Hermione shuffled in, rubbing her eyes. "What's this about Sirius Black?"

"No, he's gone now, but he was here, look!" Ron gestured to his bed. The curtains on his four posters were cut to ribbons. The contents of his trunk were thrown around the room; various pieces of paper littered the floor. "He was trying to kill me!" Ron actually seemed kind of happy about it.

"Um, Ron? Why would Sirius Black want to kill you?" asked Harry awkwardly.

Ron shook his head, "Look Harry, he came after ME, not YOU. Jeez, don't be so jealous!"

"Or," pointed out Hermione, "it could be because you were sleeping in Harry's bed."

"What are you implying?" shouted Ron.

"No, look." Hermione pointed to the nametag above the bed. The shredded bed said HARRY'S BED, and the normal bed that Harry was still laying in was labeled RON'S BED.

Ron stared. "Oh…that could explain things."

Harry wasn't convinced, "But still, how did Black even get in here?"

Hermione shrugged, "I don't know, but we're going to find out!"

**_

* * *

_**

**_Oddly_**


	23. A Moldy Prediction

Ah, Ronald and his mold problem, who all missed that? I sure did, let's revisit for a while, shall we?

That Loser

**Chapter 23: A Moldy Prediction**

Ron glared moodily across the Common Room at Hermione.

"Well…can't I just…?"

"NO!" He hissed. "We aren't talking to her!"

"But Ron! I DON'T UNDERSTAND A SINGLE THING ON MY TRANSFIGURATION HOMEWORK!!" Harry bawled.

"Well you should have thought of that before Hermione bought that _SATAN _cat."

"That makes no sense at all, how would I be blamed for Hermione's buying tenden—"

"—SATAN!"

Harry frowned. "Seriously, Ron, try thinking of who Scabbers _was_ and not, uh…_where_ he is…right, uh…now…"

Ron sniffed loudly, not noticing the strange dirty man in prison robes pop up behind his armchair: "WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP CALLING ME?!"

"He was a good rat!" Ron sobbed, pulling out a couple stick-figure drawn pictures. "Look, he even used to draw me little presents…" Ron laid them down on the coffee table, pictures of bizarre skulls and snakes, a big fat man trying to stab a short bispeckled-loser boy, and the words **PETER PETTIGREW** scrawled huge across the top of one page in little rat feet-print.

Harry nodded sympathetically, the prison-outfit-wearing man inspecting the pictures over Ron's shoulder, his right eye twitching. "A tissue for your issue?" Harry offered.

"CURSE FATE!" Ron screamed, tears and mascara tracks running down his cheeks, Harry quietly watched Ron's convulsions as he ate a cracker. "THAT'S IT! I WILL MAKE A STAND! A STAND FOR UNUSUALLY LONG-LIVING, MYSTERIOUSLY TATTOOED RATS EVERYWHERE!"

Harry looked up from his Sirius Black shaped cracker; he snapped its head off, "What are you going to do?"

"I deny showers!"

A shiver passed threw the Common Room, everyone stopped what they were doing, and frightened, turned to gawk at Ron. The first years began to cry.

"RonIdon'tthinkthatsagoodidea!" Harry rushed out, tortured visions of his mold-filled first year beginning to resurface.

"PLEASE NOOOO!!!!" someone cried, the sobbing increased.

Hermione huffed from her seat, across the Common Room from them, she rolled her eyes and picked up a stack of books and walked to the staircase, two other Hermiones quickly followed her with their own stack of books.

"Hey Ron!" Harry shouted cheerfully, trying not to push Ron over the edge any farther; he shook him forcefully, his head bobbing against his chest. "Why don't we go down to the Great Hall and eat a nice hearty breakfast!" Harry suggested happily with a sick-twisted grin on his face.

"Yeah, sure Harry—but you know I'm not doing this because Hermione's going down there, right! Right!? I DON'T LIKE HERMIONE, HARRY; JEEZ, STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. WE'VE NOT TALKING TO HER, OKAY!?"

* * *

Hermione was sipping porridge quietly as Harry frog marched Ron to the table.

"AHO! I see your plan, now, Harry! Well, I'll have you know that I DON'T LIKE HERMIONE IN THE LEAST! And you can't make me talk to her!"

Harry shrugged, and stuffed an apple into Ron's mouth. "Now Ron, now about this whole, no-shower thing…"

Ron mumbled crazily for a couple seconds, Harry pulled the apple out of his mouth. "—EXERCISE MY RIGHTS AS A CITIZEN OF HOGWARTS—!"

"Ron, we're students, we have no rights, or feelings, or freedom for that matter…"

"Wha—WHAT!? This is Snape's doing!"

"Yes, yes." Harry gently patted Ron's hand as the screeches of many owls cried out; the mail was arriving.

A sound like that of a falling missile, dropped vertically into the applesauce bowl. Harry lifted a dull grey wing and pulled the paper out from under Errol's body.

He pushed the Daily Prophet over to Ron, "You know if Hedwig wasn't out hunting right now, I bet she would have delivered the mail."

Ron paused in his maniac depression to look sorrowfully over at Harry. "Uh…Harry, she's…dead."

Harry's hands began shaking, and his eyes twitched rapidly. "SHE'S NOT DEAD."

Ron pulled out an old copy of the Daily Prophet from his back pocket, then pointed at an article. "Look, Harry. It even says so, right here, in her obituary."

"SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

"Seriously! Harry, she's gone!"

"NOOOO!!!"

The ratted haired man in ripped prison robes glared and chucked an orange at them. "I know you don't want to talk to me!"

"OK Harry! OKAY! She's just…on vacation."

Harry settled down, glaring at Ron. "That's right! She always liked Maui."

"Hey look!"

Ron was bent over today's edition of the paper, pointing at a bold headline. "It's about El Lupo!"

Harry frowned, scanning the article. "It says here that El Lupo is Zorro's bastard love-child."

"I RESENT THAT!" A wolf-like growl called out.

"'_a hero for the people, doing great things for poor people, like their taxes and watering their ferns, and giving them moustache tips._'" Harry read aloud.

"Wha!? A moustache!? Can't people see he's EVIL?" Ron yelled. "This is all Snape's doing! Harry, this El Lupo character is taking your spot-light!"

Professor Lupin walked past them, munching on a fudge-dipped T-bone steak and wearing bright blue robes with big moons on them. "I think he sounds like a nice bloke." He said absent mildly.

"What would you know, you have a moustache!" Ron hissed.

Lupin frowned, daintily wiping a chocolate stain off his mouth. "Ten points from Gryffindor." Then trotted away.

Ron leaned back in his seat and called after the professor. "IT'S OK, I DON'T BLAME YOU, SNAPE PUT YOU UP TO IT!"

* * *

Two hours later, Harry was walking Ron to the front gates of Hogwarts, so Ron could go to Hogsmeade.

"Look, all I'm saying is, you don't want to have mold all over your face again, do you?"

"What mold?"

"Ah…never mind."

They arrived at the gate.

"Look, Harry, since I'm not talking to Hermione…why don't you, ah…_sneak_ into Hogsmeade, 'kay?"

Harry sighed; he was looking forward to spending today organizing his mop collection and making voodoo dolls of Sirius Black.

"Yeah, okay."

Ron smirked, then loudly called back to him. "OKAY HARRY, I'LL BE LEAVING NOW. SEE YOU WHEN I GET BACK. YEP, LEAVING TO HOGSMEADE…ALL ALONE…WITHOUT HARRY…" he finished off his performance with a wink.

Harry grimaced. "Don't strain yourself, Ron."

"PEACE OUT HOMIE-G!"

* * *

Harry met Ron twenty minutes later outside the Three Broomsticks. Of course Ron didn't know this, because Harry had on his Invisibility Cloak.

"AAARRRHHHH!" Ron screamed as Harry appeared out of nowhere.

"Ron! You'll never believe this, but I saw something on the Marauder's Map! It was some person who I've never seen inside Hogwarts before, here look!"

Harry pulled out the Map and the two boys leaned over it, peering down at where Harry was pointing.

"See? Do you see it? Right next to that hole in the wall, marked: **SECRET PASSAGEWAY TO HOGSMEADE**"

Ron nodded, squinting at the paper. "Yeah, I see it, the dot marked: **PETER PETTIGREW AKA SCABBERS**?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I wonder who it is…"

He shrugged. "Who cares, Harry? So how'd you get here?"

"Well, I was roaming around looking for a secret passage way when Dumbledore hop scotched past me "Pathetically trying to find a way to Hogsmeade, again, Harry?" He questioned me. I agreed, and he apparated me here."

"You can't apparate out of Hogwarts…"

"Yeah! Isn't it cool—er, I mean, bloody brilliant?"

"Harry, we're English, everything's bloody brilliant."

Harry smiled, walking past a WANTED poster of Sirius Black doing various things: a sock puppet show, whacking jailers with a spatula, miming, picking flowers, and eating a sardine.

"Bloody brilliant!"

* * *

A couple minutes later, the two third years found themselves staring at the Shrieking Shack.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard it was haunted by evil spirits!"

"I bet Snape put them up to it." Ron glowered.

Harry pulled out a brochure, "It says here, that haunting screams are heard every full moon, wolf-like calls, actually…you know, Professor Lupin is always sick on full moons…"

Ron gasped, quickly turning to look at Harry. "Harry! I've figured it out!"

"Figured what out?"

"Why Professor Lupin is always sick on the full moons! He must be a _ghost-hunter!_"

"What."

"Yeah! He comes down here every full moon and stalks the ghosts in the Shrieking Shack!"

"Ron, that's gotta be the stu-smartest idea I've ever heard!" he paused. "Or maybe he's a werewolf."

They both turned to look at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, look here, Weasley's talking to himself."

Draco Malfoy and his two goons, whose names aren't important right now, or ever, for that matter, strutted out of the trees, smirking at Ron. Harry quickly pulled on his Invisibility Cloak.

Ron growled. "Shut up stumpy."

Draco sneered, maybe less threatening so because of his one arm. "I suppose that Shack looks rather homey, doesn't it, must be loads bigger than your house."

"Yeah?! Well, you're ugly!"

Draco blanched. "Well…well…you're…poor…"

Right then, Harry, tried to sneak past Draco and leave Ron, but resulted in tripping over Malfoy's foot, even though he could have easily gone around him; thus, yanking his Cloak sideways, and revealing his right arm.

Malfoy peered down gleefully at this arm. "Look! A sign from above! God's given me a new arm!" Malfoy bent down and tried to pick it up. "It's stuck…" he pulled harder, then with a gasp, quickly dropped it, bring his hand to his face, open-mouthed. "My hand! It's burning! Only filth would cause this…only…POTTER!"

The following sequences are a little blurry, but the results would be something like this:

A scramble, much pushing-people-down-in-mud-puddles, a mysterious masked figure carrying a bag of chocolate swinging from tree tops, some screaming, a well placed curse, some more scrambling, sprints to the gate, a maze race to find the first professor, and then…

"SEE PROFESSOR? SEE?" Malfoy was bouncing on the balls of his feet, pointing eagerly at the two Gryffindors while hiding behind Professor Snape's robes.

"Potter…" Snape sneered, threatening with his moustache and opera cloak. "You dare do something stupid to interrupt me during my practice of Act Five of Fiddler on the Roof?"

"I didn't do anything…today…Professor!"

"Did so!" Malfoy yelled louder, his hand shaking as he pointed at Harry. "Only Potter could have done this to me!" Dramatically he spun around, showing Professor Snape the palm of his only hand. There, right in the middle was a burn, a burn that looked like a lightning bolt.

Snape looked up coolly, trying to maintain his apparent glee. He had Potter now. "So Potter, how can you disprove this one? Mr. Malfoy states that he saw your arm in Hogsmeade, and there's proof. Now I'm curious, Potter, why in the world would one of your body parts be in Hogsmeade? Because I clearly remember that you aren't allowed there, AND either are any of your body parts…" he smirked watching Harry and Ron giving each other looks. "Oh, dear; it looks like you can't sneak your way out of this one…"

"That's easily explained, Professor!" Ron hastily shouted. "I was lonely, and didn't want to go to Hogsmeade alone, so I took Harry's arm with me."

Harry quickly nodded, agreeing with Ron.

Snape stared at them silently, a lightning bolt slashed across the sky. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and sunny. "You can't expect me to beli—"

A squeaky noise echoed down the stone corridors, Dumbledore rode up on a bicycle with purple training wheels. "Look! I've graduated to a big boy bike!" He smiled up at Snape.

Snape flinched.

"What's the problem here?" Dumbledore dropped his kick-stand.

"Potter wants me to believe that Weasley took his arm to Hogsmeade." Snape sneered,

Dumbledore pursed his lips, "Yes, that seems plausible."

Snape angrily turned to face the Professor. "WHAT? You believe him!?"

Dumbledore laughed, kindly patting Snape on the shoulder. "Of course I do!"

Snape began shaking, raised his wand…lowered it, then calmly pulled out a limited version of Macbeth. "I have much work to do…" He sneered and billowed away.

Dumbledore smiled at his back. "Good lad, now Harry, why don't you go and do something fulfilling, like shuffleboard." And with that last word of wisdom in, Dumbledore cycled away.

Once Malfoy sulked off, Ron, grinning, turned to look at Harry. "Alright! Wow, for a minute there I thought Snape was going to kill Dumbledore!"

Harry laughed loudly, spraying Ron with spit. "Yeah! Like that'll ever happen!"

* * *

Later that day during supper, Ron and Harry, sitting away from Hermione, received an owl from Hagrid.

"Hark! Look at this!" Ron laughed.

"Did you just say Hark?"

"Lawks, Harry, of course I didn't."

"And Lawks…?"

"ILOVEHERMIONE, NO!"

"Then why did you just say 'I love Hermione?'"

"MERLIN, HARRY! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF? I DON'T LOVE HERMIONE, YOU'RE A LOSER, I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HORCRUXES, AND SNAPE'S TO BLAME FOR EVERYTHING!"

Harry reddened, "Oh, come on, Ron! I'm sorry, I could have heard anything! This _is_ Britain!"

Over a hundred voices chimed: "To the Queen!" And threw their china teacups over their shoulders. Half of the Hufflepuff Table was taken out. Various students were sent to the Hospital Wing with cups jammed up their noses.

Ron sighed. "Look, mate, let's just go down to Hagrid's tonight and forget this whole thing."

Harry stuffed a roasted potato in his mouth. "Mmigmmt."

Over on the corner of the table, Hermione was intensely reading a book that she forgot she even owned: Romantic Tensions: How to Control a Relationship. When in doubt, use force.

* * *

Harry and Ron quietly crept across the Hogwarts grounds. Well, when I saw 'quietly' I really mean earsplitting screams and loud tripping.

"ARRRGGHHH!"

"Ron, you ok!?" Harry whispered.

Ron slowly picked himself up. "Yeah, yeah, it's just this big neon white boulder, I didn't see it."

They continued on…

"WWWWAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!"

"WHAT?!"

"SPIDER! SPIDER! I KNOW THAT'S A SSSPPPPPPPPPPPPIIIIIDDDEEEERRRR!!!"

Harry cast his illuminated wand over the object. He sighed heavily. "Ron, it's just a flesh-eating zombie. Okay? We good, OK?"

"Oh."

"Come on, then!"

They set off again.

"Hey, do you smell that?"

"Peanut butter?"

"Yeah."

"That's odd…"

And they walked the rest of the way quietly, Ron's feet swishing with each step he took, the mysterious smell of peanut butter hovering around him…

"Hagrid!" Harry hissed, pounding on the door of his small wooden hut.

The door was flung open, Hagrid's huge bulk standing in front of the doorway.

"Yesr cammion!"

"What?"

"Derssre same!"

"What did you say?"

"YER CAME!" Hagrid whined; swinging his arms up and down, his accent becoming slightly clearer.

"Oh, yes, of course we did, Hagrid." Harry and Ron stepped into the Hut, shutting the door behind them, then walked over to the table and sat down. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

"It's about Hermione." Hagrid answered gruffly.

Ron opened his mouth furiously. "I DO NOT LIKE—!"

"She's been upset."

Ron deflated.

"She tells me that you two have stopped talking to her, because of your rat," he gave a pointed look at Ron. "Now, listen to me; people can be a little weird about their pets, but, you know Hermione meant well. Deep. Deep. Deep down inside."

Ron sighed, "Harry, take out the list."

Harry grinned, extracting it from his pocket. "Finally!"

_**Guy who bought mop #12854 on eBay before me**_

_**Voldemort**_

_**Dursleys**_

_**Sirius Black**_

_**Snape**_

_**Hermione**_

With a swish, Harry quickly crossed off Hermione's name then pocketed the list.

Hagrid nodded happily, putting rocks on a plate. "Now, I wanted to tell you guys that Buckbeak's been sentenced."

"Oh, Hagrid! Why?"

Hagrid rolled his eyes, "Well apparently that _scratch_ Malfoy received in my class was worth the Department of Control of Magical Creatures making a case. But don't worry about it; I'm sure it's nothing."

Hagrid set the plate down on the table. "Cake, anyone?"

Harry forced a smile on his face, "Uh, nooo…we're, uh, we have to be going on anyways…"

Ron and Harry quickly ran out the door into the night, they had a good stride going, bypassed the neon white boulder, when…

"OFMP!"

A foot appeared.

Harry and Ron looked up at what had tripped them.

"P-professor Lupin…what are you doing out here?"

Lupin quickly threw a small black mask behind him, shuffling his feet. "Not sneaking away to be the Mexican Superhero El Lupo or anything like that…What are _you_ doing out here?!"

The two boys exchanged looks. "Nothing."

An awkward tension.

"Well, I'll just take this mysteriously-familiar _blank _piece of parchment from you, and call it a day."

"What!? But-but-Professor! I need that ordinary-non-magical-piece of blank parchment! To—ah, to…write to…Santa…"

Lupin gave them a cold look. "Now Harry, I'm no way your dad's old friend or know that this piece of parchment is some way connected with him, so if you don't mind, I'll be on my way…"

"But—"

"_Adios muchahos!" _

* * *

Harry sat above it all, balancing on his new Firebolt, Wood had personally spit-shined it last night, then promised to sacrifice his first born to Harry if they won the game.

Yes, the game, the Quidditch Final, the Quidditch Cup was on the line here, it was Wood's last year at Hogwarts and they had yet to win the Cup in his lifetime. Needless to say, Harry would need a food taste-tester for the rest of his life if he didn't win this thing.

A rouge Bludger zoomed up past his ears, Fred—or George, he wasn't sure which, shot past him and after it.

"COME ON HARRY!" Wood shouted up at him from his position among the hoops. "TRY YOUR BEST! **_OR ELSE._**"

Harry quickly began scanning the playing field, the image of Wood's headlock on Professor McGonagall standing out vividly.

Okay…Chasers racing down field…Hufflepuffs snogging in back of the stands…Slytherins making evil potions and cackling…Teachers passing betting money…Dementors guarding Hogwarts' new bridge…Lupin running across the grounds and disappearing into Whomping Willow…and…strange mysterious black bear-dog. Nope. No Snitch.

Harry, trying to shake off some pent up nervousness, flew a lap around the field and tried searching again.

Right…Ron writing secret love poems to Hermione…Hagrid trying to ride a unicorn…unicorn dead by suffocation…Dumbledore eating gummy bears…Hermione loading poison dart gun at Ron…and…_strange mysterious black bear-dog_. No. Still nothing.

Harry did some loopity-loops, time to try again. Beaters giving other team concussions…Voldemort monologuing…Scabbers playing with knife…Snape, causing everyones' problems…**STRANGE MYSTERIOUS BLACK BEAR-DOG**, which meant nothing at all, really…and…THE SNITCH!

Harry zoomed. He zammed. He hurdled and sped; He spat in the Ravenclaw Beater's eyes, elbowed the Chasers in the face, and performed the _Cruciatus _on Cho Chang, it wasn't like he was ever going to talk to her in the near future, or kill her boyfriend, anyways.

He grabbed it.

Wild cheering let loose from the crowd, the Weasley Brothers were grinning stupidly down at him and Wood was bawling.

Harry touched down on the ground, lifting the Snitch higher into the air, Dumbledore cycled up to the Gryffindor team with the huge silver trophy.

"I LOVE YOU HARRY! MY LOVE FOR YOU BURNS WITH THE DEPTH OF THE DEEP BLUE-GREENISH-GREY-SEA!" Wood cried, embracing Harry into a suffocating hug. "Just promise me that my replacement isn't going to be someone like Ron."

Ron scowled.

* * *

The glow of winning the Quidditch Interhouse Cup was thrown to the ground, stampeded on, cut to pieces, then encased in cement and tossed into the lake, there, swallowed by the Giant Squid. Final Exams were amongst them.

Ron, so stressed, kept his word on his defiance of showers and now sported a ten o'clock shadow—of mold.

Hermione, who they had started talking to again, gasped, holding her nose and quickly fanning herself with her hand.

Harry tried not to have a seizure.

Ron eyed them natively. "What?"

"Ron!" Hermione coughed. "Why is the mold back!?"

"What mold?"

"Granger, Hermione!" A voice called out from the doorframe, the whole Gryffindor third year class was waiting to take their Charms Exams.

Hermione quickly jumped to her feet and fled away from them.

Ron rolled his eyes, laughing, turning to Harry. "Girls, huh? What in the world was she talking about?"

"I have no idea." Harry lied.

"Potter, Harry."

Harry hurriedly got to his feet and walked into the Exams room.

Professor Flickwick smiled happily up at him from behind his desk. "Okay, Harry, the first charm I want you to show me is a little doozy called _Accio_. And don't worry if you don't get it, no one ever uses it anyways…"

* * *

Harry was comparing notes with Hermione later that day, waiting for Ron to finish up with his Transfiguration Exam. Harry, himself, had just finished his; he had been required to transfigure four statues, a wolf, a stag, a dog, and a rat. The only problem he had was that the rat's head wasn't attached.

A rancid smell hovered over them, Ron must have finished.

And it was true; Ron stalked out, his face pale under all the decaying mold.

"I don't want to talk about it." He whispered; the same thing he had said for his Potions and Herbology Exams.

Hermione clucked her tongue, pushing past him. "Well if you hadn't acted like such a baby and talked to me these last two weeks, maybe I would have studied with you. It's too bad you didn't have some sort of book owned by a potions prince for your Potions Exam, think of it…a Prince, for Potions, half of potions? Hahaha, Half-Potions Prince…Half-Blood—"

"OK! Hermione!" Harry called back at her.

Ron sneered at her back, imitating her as they walked to their next Exam, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"CHOCOLATE!" a scream was heard from inside the classroom. "WHO STOLE MY _PRECIOUS?!"_

Professor Lupin barreled out of the classroom, a crazy look in his eyes, spotted Neville and physically lifted him off the ground and shook him.

"WHERRRRRE'SS MERRR COCOA!!!" he howled, wolf-like, actually.

Neville was turning purple.

"T'S!!! T'S FOR EVERYONE!!!"

Hermione gasped, tears in her eyes, fro frizzing. "T-t-troll!? I REFUSE TO RECEIVE A TROLL ON MY EXAM!"

Hermione smartly whipped out a chocolate frog from her bag pack and marched up to the insane professor.

"Professor Lupin! I'll give you this Chocolate Frog if you give me an 'O'." Hermione bribed, waving the chocolate near his face.

"Deal." He dropped Neville with a resounding clunk, and snatched it out of her hands.

Needless to say the whole Gryffindor Third Years did pretty well on their DADA tests that year.

* * *

It was their last Exam of the year, Ron and Harry hurried up to Divination and Hermione rushed off to take Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes…at the same time. But the boys didn't question it because the big reveal would be later…

"Your future looks promising; I foresee a huge house and money, lots of money…" Trelawney's voice echoed as Lavender skipped out the door, having just finished her Exam.

"Longbottom!" With a squeak, Neville jumped to his feet and stumbled inside, the door slammed shut behind him.

Moments later Neville, grinning broadly, stumbled back out. "She says I'm going to be a Great Wizard!" he gasped breathlessly.

"Weasley!" Trelawney's mystic voice trailed from inside the classroom.

Ron smiled weakly, getting to his feet. "Well, wish me luck."

Harry smiled. "Ron, you'll need more than luck to pass this."

Scowling, Ron ran to door. "I know that Snape made you say that…so I'll forgive you…LOSER!"

So now alone, Harry sat quietly, reflecting on all of his past lessons…

"_Death, yes. A painful death…"_

"_Misery…and…pink squirrels…"_

"_Oh, my poor child! I see it clearly now, the Grim haunts your steps!"_

"_The beastly image! The Grim!"_

"_A black dog, that Grim is…"_

"_It's the Grim!"_

"_The Grim!"_

"_Grim…"_

"_Grim."_

"_Grim!"_

"_GRIM!"_

"Harry Pooter!"

"That's Potter!"

Harry rose to his feet, slowly walking into his last Exams of the year, Ron passing him out the door.

"She says I'm going be more famous than you are!" Ron hissed excitedly, and Harry entered the room.

"Sit down, my child, sit down." the Professor peered at him behind huge magnifying glasses.

Harry sat, then quickly jumped to his feet, pulled the dagger out from underneath him, and sat down again.

"Oh the howling mouths of the fates torment me so—ah!" Trelawney paused, tangling her shawl up around her glasses and her many beaded necklaces. Sputtering, a couple moments later, she freed herself.

"Harry, my dear boy, I see merry fates for all but thee."

"Of course…" Harry rolled his eyes.

"What did you bemoan, my dearie?"

"Nothing."

"It is a cursed fate that I forecast for you—" she waved her hands up in the air.

"Wait, forecast? So what's the weather like tomorrow? I wanted to get some…Quidditch…in…" Harry trailed off; with the look she was giving him.

"Oh Merlin, that my laments reach your unwilling ears! The fate of death and despair I only can uncover for your—" Trelawney paused, holding up a finger, then turned around and took a quick puff off some strange-smelling rolled cigarette, the smoke was green. "—future!" She coughed out, pounding her chest.

"Is that all, Professor?"

She smiled lazily up at him, holding out a bag. "Cheese puff, Pooter? I seem to be having the munchies lately…Must be from my Inner Eye, I've been ripping news from the gods a lot, recently."

"Am I free to go…?"

"Oh yes, just one last thing, DEATH, DESTRUCTION, FILTH AND TORMENT, ONLY SADDNESS AND SORROW WILL FOLLOW YOU THE DAYS OF YOUR LIFE! AND A HEMORRHOID PROBLEM! ANGST, POOTER! ANGST WHILE LEPROSY HAS YET TO FILL YOUR CURSED MOUTH! FATE FROWNS ON LOSERS!" She coughed again, expelling a great tide of funky smelling smoke, "Ahhh…that's the ticket." The professor sighed, then shooed him away. "You can go now Potter, you can go."

Harry, a little upset, turned around a headed back to the door, his hand was on the handle when a horrid scream rippled through the room; Harry quickly turned around, the poor Professor must have choked on her cigarette.

But he was wrong, her body jumped, her head flung backwards against the backrest, her eyes rolling in their sockets, a deep raspy voice issued from her throat as if every word burned—Trelawney really needed to get that asthma checked out.

"_**THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT…THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT…BEFORE MIDNIGHT…THE SERVANT…WILL SET OUT…TO REJOIN…HIS MASTER…"**_

Harry stood there, staring at her, what was all of that?

Trelawney looked up, annoyed. "You still here? Oh, come on! Want me to repeat it? **_TONIGHT…BEFORE MIDNIGHT…THE SERVANT WILL REJOIN HIS MASTER…"_**

Terrified, Harry fled, the echo pounding, pushing, against his ears as the words vibrated through his head.

"…_**TONIGHT."**_

* * *

_**Siriusly **_


	24. The Truth About Scabbers

I don't know about you, but I'm super stressed. So sit back, relax, and enjoy another soothing chapter of That Loser…okay, maybe soothing isn't the right word…

That Loser

**Chapter 24: The Truth About Scabbers**

Finals continued. Hermione worried. Harry tried. Harry failed. Harry losered. Ron molded…and molded…and molded some more. Yeah, all right, they're all losers. But, most importantly, the finals continued and the tension in the Gryffindor Common room intensified as Hermione studied for her Arithmancy and Muggle Studies finals…which, unsurprisingly, both occurred at the same time.

"Ron," Harry hissed in Ron's ear, "how can she be taking two finals at once?"

Ron shrugged, "Hey, don't question Hermione's intellekt…inelt…intil…smarts." Ron's eyes clouded over with pink mist. "Yeah, she's great, isn't she?" Ron shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. "Wow, that strange peanut butter smell must be getting to me." He wandered off, squelching nuttily.

Hermione, her eyes never leaving her book, held up a remote control and pressed a button.

Ron screamed, bolts of blue electricity sparking off of various appendages. Arms, legs, eyes…

Hermione clicked her tongue, "Ron, security collar, remember? You know how you tend to wander," Hermione raised an eyebrow as Ron meandered aimlessly into the next room, "Like a crosseyed goldfish."

Ron's head popped around the doorway as he sighed lovingly, "Oh yeah, I had a crosseyed goldfish once. I fished it out of the waste treatment plant, couldn't afford the pet shops, you know? But, anyways, he disappeared mysteriously after turning into, I mean, being stolen by a strange man with an aura of evil and a tattoo on his arm." Ron suddenly teared up. "You know…I named that fish Scabbers. I bet you didn't know that."

"Who could have predicted it?" said Harry under his breath. "Ron, you named your rat Scabbers-"

Ron folded his arms, "Yeah, so?"

"-And your favorite chair-"

Ron shrugged, "So what's your point, Scabbers is a perfectly good name for a chair!"

"-and your big toe-"

"Left or right?" said Ron.

"Both!" Shouted Harry, "And that little mole on your-"

Ron giggled, "Yeah…I'd had to much chocolate that night, you know…"

"-and me-" Interjected Hermione.

"Quiet Scabbers!" Shouted Ron.

"Anyways," Harry glared at Ron, "Hagrid gave me this message, I haven't opened it yet."

Hermione took the note and ripped it open. "Oh no, look!" Ron and Harry clustered around her.

_Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. Don't want you to see. Can't stop talking in incomplete sentences. Curse really._

_Hagrid_

"We've got to go see Hagrid," said Harry, grabbing the invisibility cloak. "Let's go."

* * *

The three friends ran under the cloak through the nearly deserted, and recently added courtyard. Under a trellis that did not exist last year, was a large muscular man in a black hood was polishing a large axe. It had bells on it.

Hermione stopped, nearly crashing into Ron. "Oh…that isn't the…"

"The executioner?" Harry stared too. "Oh, poor Buck-hey wait, remind me why this is a bad thing?"

Hermione glared at Harry, "Why? Just look at him!" She pointed to the executioner.

The man kept on chuckling in a deep voice and swinging the axe through the air, its tiny silver bells tinkling the melody of The Bells of Saint Mary's. The executioner laughed harder. "Swoosh! Swoosh!" He whispered in a hoarse voice.

Harry grimaced, "Okay, yeah, I agree. Let's go save the bloodthirsty bird-thingy. What do you say Ron?"

Ron was smiling broadly, humming Jingle Bells.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "If you weren't so dashingly handsome, I would really hate you."

Ron shrugged, "Hey, I can't help it I'm pretty."

* * *

A few minutes and a meteor shower later, the three friends were knocking on Hagrid's door. Hagrid appeared at the door, haggard and holding a teakettle. There were four cups set out, and a rock cake at each one.

"Oh, I, er, wasn't expecting you. You probably shouldn't stay," Hagrid said, as he pushed them inside and closed the door. "Want some tea?"

"Is it anything like the cakes?" Asked Ron cautiously.

Hagrid laughed hollowly, "Oh no…well, actually yes. It's pretty much the same thing, you know. Can't really cook." Hagrid opened the teakettle, which was filled with rock cakes.

Ron grimaced, "Um, no thanks."

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" said Hermione hesitantly.

"I—I took him outside." Hagrid glanced longingly out the window. "I couldn't bear the sad little look on his cute widdle face!" Hagrid broke down sobbing…again.

Harry tried to recall Buckbeak ever looking cute. Insane rolling eyes, blood-drenched beak, foam-flecked dirty body, giant claws…not too fluffy.

Harry felt a sudden sting on the back of his head, a small pebble bounced off. He blinked. A larger rock imbedded itself in the back of Harry's head. He blinked again. "Did you feel…?" He turned around just in time to see the large pumpkin flying toward his face from the forest.

Hermione suddenly noticed Harry, "Oh Harry, you've got a bit of something on your face, did you know?"

Harry spit out bits of pumpkin and shook seeds out of his hair. "No, I hadn't. Thanks a lot, Hermione."

She smiled sunnily, "Welcome. Oh, hey, what time is it? We've got to go."

"Hurry, hurry! Dumbledore and der Minister should be here any minute." Hagrid threw the invisibility cloak at them and pushed them out the back door.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran over the river and through the woods from the hut towards the large neon white rock. They had just made it to the protection of the rock when three wizards rounded the bend and approached Hagrid's hut. The setting sun glinted off Dumbledore's big boy bike and matching helmet; his leather jacket with THE ANGELS FROM THE PLACE DOWN THERE on the back gleamed. Flanking him were Cornelius Fudge with his lime green bowler hat, and the creepy executioner, holding his axe. Every few steps he chuckled and jingled the bells. _Swoosh._

The grass by their feet suddenly rustled. Ron gasped. "Could it be?"

Harry frowned, "What?"

"I'd know that scabbering sound anywhere!" Ron pounced. "SCABBERS! YOU'RE ALIVE!"

The executioner narrowed his eyes and took a step towards the rock.

Dumbledore suddenly pointed wildly towards the lake, "Look, a distraction!"

Fudge took out a small pair of birdwatching goggles, "Really? They are so rare these days."

Harry and Hermione forced Ron's head down into the overgrown grass. The three figures paused for a few more seconds, then continued to Hagrid's hut. Hermione sighed in relief.

Ron was cuddling a small squirming rat. "Scabbers! Where were you buddy? Wait…are you balding…?"

Hermione suddenly whirred around. "Did you hear that?"

Ron rubbed his nose against Scabbers. "Whosa good boy den?" When he looked up to answer Hermione's question, a chunk of his nose was missing. "Oops, it looks like somebody's hungry!" Scabbers twitched convulsively, his mouth and tiny gray moustache flecked with foam and blood and bits of nose. He almost seemed to…glow.

Harry shied away, "Uh Ron, have you noticed that your rat has an aura of evil?"

A miniature skull with a snake winding through it hovered above Scabbers head. The rat squeaked in maniacal laughter, its eyes glowing red.

Ron shrugged, "Why would you say that?"

Harry continued to stare at Scabbers for a second, then ripped his gaze away. "Um, I'm sorry, did you say something Hermione?"

She was looking suspiciously into the woods, "Oh nothing, I just felt as if someone were insulting me behind my back. It's like a sixth sense."

Ron gasped, "You can talk to dead people? Can I talk to Scabbers?"

Harry squinted, "What, the goldfish?"

"No, the plastic flamingo. Couldn't afford pets, so when we were kids, we got creative."

"Uhhhh…"

"Talk to the goldfish he says, pfft…as if goldfish could talk!" Ron shook his head at Harry's foolishness. "Oh, hey look Harry, it's your dad!"

Harry gasped, "Where! FATHER!"

Ron pointed to the woods, "In there, I just saw someone that looked like you running away, and since you're here, it has to be your dad, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh, come on Ron, it could have been anything! A loser-shaped tree, a large bear-like black dog, El Lupo, Harry's mom…anyone!"

"Shhh." Shushed Harry, spraying spit.

"I hate it when you do that." Hermione donned a large pink helmet with a visor labeled Harry Spit Shield.

Ron tried to snatch the helmet, "Hey, I bet I could sell that to The Harry Fan Club for a couple sickles."

"Quiet, they're coming out of the hut again-wait, what fan club?"

Hagrid's back door opened and the four men walked out to the pumpkin patch, where Buckbeak was smashing pumpkins with his huge cruel beak.

"Now I ask you, does he look dangerous to you?" Hagrid pleaded to Fudge.

Buckbeak dripped danger and pumpkin seeds. He practically steamed with menace before their eyes. And he seemed to have acquired a large moustache.

Fudge looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry Hagrid, the animal seems to be completely harmless, and we all know the Malfoy boy is faking, but Lucius Malfoy said that if we didn't put down the animal he would cut off our supply of designer hair products and-" Fudge stopped his nervous speech to take off his bowler hat and run his fingers through lustrously shining bleach blonde hair, "-we just can't live without our hair care, okay? And he's such a trendsetter you know, and he does have a court order. Yes, well, legal documents are all a bit…iffy, but the hair…that's the most important part!"

Dumbledore shrugged, his silver beard glinting in the dying sunlight underneath his bikers' helmet. "Can't argue with that. I'm sorry Hagrid, I really am, but in the name of Properly Dyed Roots, you may now proceed with the execution."

"NOOOO, nooo! He's such a gentle creature!" Hermione shouted. Harry and Ron clamped their hands over her mouth.

"I say, what was that?" Fudge peered towards the woods.

Dumbledore was sweating, "Uh, look, pumpkins!"

Fudge blinked, "Ah, right. Continue, Macnair."

The executioner grunted and raised his axe.

Behind the rock, Hermione turned away. She shuddered, "I can't watch!" Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were watching the executioner.

"Betcha he misses," said Ron.

"You're on!"

Hermione grabbed the backs of their robes, "And you can't watch either, right? Because it would be to… painful?"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, "Uh…right, and completely screw up the plot."

So, the three friends closed their eyes as the axe came down, and landed with a thump and a disturbing little tinkle.

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells

Jingle all the way…

* * *

"Oh, the horror!" Hermione wailed inconsolably on Ron's shoulder.

Harry stared empty-eyed at nothing. "I can't believe they killed Buckbeak—I mean, even though we only heard a noise, and didn't actually see it, that noise might have been a woodpecker or even a clumsy first year falling down steps— " Harry broke off.

Ron's lip quivered. "But it had to have been a death noise! NOOOOO! BUCKBEAK! WHY!" In his passion, Ron flung his arms extravagantly, which achieved the purposes of making him look like a complete idiot, and to send Scabbers flying. Ron looked at his suddenly empty hand in shock. "Sc...Sc…Scabbbers? NOT AGAIN!" He took off running after Scabbers, who was sprinting away from Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione took off after him.

"Hermione!" Ron called over his shoulder.

"Scabbers?" Hermione called.

"Ron!" Squeaked Scabbers with menace.

Harry a hand sheepishly. "Harry." Now standing alone, and feeling quite left out and even more like a loser than usual, he sighed and took off after Ron and Hermione.

By the time he had caught up, Ron had a vice-like grip on Scabbers, who was squirming franticly and staring into the woods. "Scabbers, what's wrong?"

Suddenly, a large bear-like dog jumped out of the shadows and pounced on Ron, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the Womping Willow.

Hermione gasped, "No, Ron!"

Harry started to run towards Ron, but something hit him in the chest, lifting him off the ground and knocking off his glasses. "My glasses! I can't see without them!" He proceeded to get down on his knees and feel around on the ground, his hand narrowly missing them with each pass.

In the meantime, Hermione suddenly had on a long black coat and sleek sunglasses. Jumping and rolling with Matrix-like nimbleness, she dodged the branches of the Womping Willow, while Harry, still on the ground, was beaten repeatedly over the head with a thick branch.

The dog hit a knot in the tree, and a tunnel appeared. Ron, still screaming, tried to hook his foot around a tree root. The dog pulled harder, and things snapped. Not the tree root.

Ron howled in pain, as he slowly disappeared into the dark tunnel.

"RON!" Hermione dropped to her knees and raised her arms to the heavens. "Why!"

Harry walked up to her, "Oh, you lose your glasses too?"

She looked up, "Why'd the tree stop all of the sudden?"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, it suddenly stopped beating my brains out when the mysterious black dog THAT WE HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE hit the knot in the tree and dragged Ron to his doom." Harry struck a dramatic pose, tying on his red cape, "I must save him!" Harry ran off, humming heroic theme music.

Hermione waited a few seconds, then sighed. "Other way."

Harry ran past her again, cape flying. "Right, I knew that!" He disappeared into the tunnel.

Hermione raced after him. "What would they do without me?"

The Hogwarts grounds were filled with silence, the only sound was the wind hissing over the grass and teasing the tree leaves. The Womping Willow stirred, sighing in the wind.

Edmund…

* * *

"So, do you know anything about Black?" Harry asked Hermione as they ran down the long, dark tunnel.

"Yeah, I mean, come one Harry, everyone knows more about Black than you!" Hermione snorted in laughter, which eventually died away. "Why do you ask so suddenly, I mean, it's not as if we've seen him lately."

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, the hate I feel for that dog that's probably eaten Ron by now reminds me of the hate I feel for Sirius. It's almost as if they were connected somehow…" He trailed off, looking thoughtful. "…Nah, forget it."

Hermione shrugged. "Okay, good enough for me. I know he came from a family of dark wizards, and he was allied with You-Know-Who."

Harry suddenly stopped, confused. "I…I do?"

"Oh, come now Harry, you can't be serious."

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Oh Merlin, you are serious. Well, um, he's that wizard with the really long name starting with a V."

Harry's forehead crinkled in thought. "Mr. Florentine, the ice cream man?"

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "Um, no. You know, Tom Riddle?"

"He's the ice cream man now?" said Harry with surprise.

"No! He's the wizard that murdered your parents for Merlin's sake!"

Harry shrugged, "Nope, not ringing a bell. Wait, THE ICE CREAM MAN MURDERED MY PARENTS!"

"NO, VOLDEMORT DID!"

Harry's eyes filled with tears.

Hermione gasped, "Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry. But anyways, the Black family was always allied with You-Know-Wh…him…and were into the dark arts. Every single one of them was in Slytherin, and we all know what come out of Slytherin."

Harry raised his hand. "Lots of people with moustaches?"

Hermione nodded, "Right. He's also supposed to be completely insane."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, look at his wanted poster." Harry pulled a slightly crumpled Sirius Black wanted poster out of his back pocket. His was full of small holes, as if someone had been throwing darts at it. In the poster, Black was turning cartwheels, spitting water, giggling and wearing a dunce cap, going to a Star Trek convention, sniffing scented pinecones…

Harry snorted, "Completely insane!" He thought for a moment, then took out a black marker are drew a moustache on Black's face.

They walked in silence for a few seconds.

"You want to hear a Sirius Black is crazy joke?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh, sure."

Harry was giddy with anticipation. "Okay, okay. Who's crazier than Sirius Black?"

"Uh…"

"NO ONE!"

Hermione grimaced. "Wow…that was lame. And I've just realized that this is an extremely long tunnel…do you see an end to it?"

"Yeah, I see a light! That was convenient."

Hermione examined the source of the light, "It looks like some sort of trapdoor. Now, it's probably going to be blocked with something from above, so if we both push together at the proper angle concurring with basic Euclidian geometric theory, our kinetic energy paired with the potential energy in the trapdoor should aide our assent into-"

By this time, Harry already had the trapdoor open and was up on the next level, looking down. "Look, I hate to interrupt that…deduction-thingy…that you do, but Ron's life is ticking away here."

Hermione sighed, feeling unappreciated. "Why don't smart people ever get to have fun?"

Harry patted her sympathetically on the back, "Because, in the party of life, the smart people never get past examining the antique doorknob, while the stupid people, the losers, use up all their energy dancing and having fun." Harry sighed, "Ah, those clueless losers, when will they learn?"

"Look, that door is open. It could be Ron!" Hermione and Harry pushed open the door to a small room. Ron was laying on the bed; his face was a horrible shade of green, but that could have just been the mold. But the strange angle of his foot was definitely not created by mold.

"Ron, are you okay?"

Ron shuddered, "What do you think? Oh, yeah, HARRY IT'S A TRAP! GET YOURSELF OUT! IT'S HIM!"

Harry smiled, "The ice cream man?"

Hermione shrieked, "Look, the dog!"

Harry whirred around in time to see the dog slowly changing shape until he towered above the three puny third years.

"It's Sirius Black!"

Harry whipped out his wand, "You killed my parents! ARRRRGH!" Harry jumped at Black, totally forgetting to use his wand, and also forgetting that Black was a buff, hardened serial killer, and Harry was just a little loser holding a stick of wood. 'If it had been a mop, maybe I could have done something,' he thought, as Black effortlessly knocked him aside.

Sirius Black looked nothing like the handsome laughing young man in his parent's pictures. This Sirius Black was old and ugly with the second worst personal hygiene in the room. Nothing trumps the mold, of course. He also had several badly concealed tattoos peeking through his torn prison shirt. One was a pink rose and a butterfly, and the other was a yellow care bear saying, Hug Me!

"Step aside Harry." He croaked.

"Never! YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!" Harry screamed, the veins standing out in his neck.

Hermione coughed discreetly, massaging her ringing ears, "Yeah, we get it already."

Black looked thoughtful, "I won't deny that…but that's not important right now. You!" He pointed to Ron, "Give me that-"

The door exploded open, showering everyone in the room with splinters. In the midst of the wreckage, sawdust billowing dramatically around his feet was El Lupo. He took out his sword and carved an L on the wall.

"I would stay away from these innocent citizens if I were you, Senor," said El Lupo in a thick Spanish accent.

Sirius smiled, "Remus, are you still up to that whole Justice thing?"

El Lupo deflated. He pulled off his mask. "How'd you know it was me?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gasped.

"Professor Lupin!"

Sirius shrugged, "The faint lingering aroma of chocolate was a clue. Now, could you possibly lower your sword?"

Lupin hestitated for a second. "Is it true, is he really still alive?"

Sirius nodded, "And he's just as much of a _rat _as he always was."

Lupin dropped the sword and hugged Sirius, "I thought you'd betrayed us."

Hermione's eyes teared up with passion, "You're working with him! I kept your secret all this time; I didn't tell anyone what you really were!"

Lupin nodded, "Actually, I wasn't working with him. By the way, just out of curiosity, how long have you known?"

"Ever since Professor Snape assigned that report on werewolves. And there was that one time when I asked you why you were always gone, and you said you were a werewolf. That got me started, so I did some investigating and found out the truth. You're a werewolf!"

Lupin nodded sagely, "Oh yes, I was wondering if I'd been a bit too obvious."

Hermione glowered.

"Look, are you all right? Ron, it looks as if you leg is broken, can I help-"

"_Stay away from me werewolf!_" Ron screamed, shrinking away.

Lupin suddenly looked as if he were carrying the weight of the world, and some dramatic music started playing. "Ah yes, I've gotten that reception all my life. We werewolves are horribly misunderstood. You see, it all began when I was a small boy…"

Harry interrupted. "Is this going to take long, cause I really want to kill Sirius Black, and this is eating into my angst-filled monologuing time."

Lupin smiled sadly, violins quavered in the background, "I'll try to make it as quick as possible. Where was I? Oh yes, when I was a small boy, I was bitten by a werewolf, and all my life I have been feared and treated with prejudice. When I was younger, all the other kids would pick on me, throwing rocks and expensive silver jewelry, and although I managed to resell the jewelry for a nice profit, deep down I hurt on the inside-"

Hermione sniffled, blowing her nose loudly in a tissue.

"-I could never find a job, because as soon as they found out I was a werewolf, then the silver bullets came out, and then the mob formed, and the lightning, and the black and white chase through the dark woods, and that whole bit. And it just got all…messy. I thought I be unemployed forever, living off my parents and bumming around the werewolf bars, until Dumbledore came to me with an offer to teach. I personally think my parents had a bit to do with it, but I was just glad to finally have a job. Some of the other staff fought against my appointment, Snape for instance, saying I was dangerous. However, a new potion was recently discovered that would allow me to remain in control after I had transformed. I would simply become ill around the full moon, and stay the night locked in my office." Lupin smiled sadly, "You know, I didn't have that when I was younger. My parents would shut me in a room, alone. The curse of the werewolf comes with a certain madness. I would want to bite someone, but since there was no one to bite, I would hurt myself. I almost died once, and the sad thing was…there was nothing I could do about it." The dramatic lighting hollowed out his eyes and highlighted the gray in his hair. "Such is the sad life of a werewolf."

There was a heavy silence. Then…

"AHAHAHAHAHAAA!" Harry and Ron burst out laughing. Harry suddenly coughed and elbowed Ron in the side. "I mean, that's really sad Professor."

Hermione blew her nose in a handkerchief. "That was beautiful…but what about Black? Do you know each other? And how did you find us?"

"YEAH!" said Harry, trying to find something to yell about, since he still wanted to kill Black, but the chances of that happening were rapidly decreasing. "YOU KILLED MY PARENTS! EXPLAIN THAT! YEAH!"

Lupin looked slightly annoyed, "Yes, I was coming to that if you would just list-"

"AHA! I KNEW IT!"

"Just shut up for a second and listen!" screamed Black. He started breathing really heavily.

Lupin thumped him on the back, "Easy Sirius, easy! Remember your heart condition."

Black scowled.

Lupin continued, "Now, if you're all done interrupting, I would like to tell you what happened if you would just-"

Harry sneered, "OH YEAH? WELL STOP STALLING AND TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"

Lupin massaged an emerging migraine.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "It's okay, he's an idiot. Just tell us what this is all about."

Lupin nodded, "First of all, I found you by using the Marauder's Map."

Harry frowned, "But how did you know how to use it?"

"I helped make it," said Lupin, "I'm Moony, Sirius is Padfoot, James was Prongs, and Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail."

Harry brightened, "My dad? But why was he called Prongs?"

Lupin waved away his question, "Later Harry, that not important now, and I'm sure it won't be important some time in the next twenty four hours, or anything like that, so I'll move on."

Ron waved weakly, "Yeah, broken leg over here, can we hurry it up a little?"

"We made the map when we were in school. When I came to Hogwarts, special precautions were made for the full moon. Remember when I told you the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Uh…no." Harry looked confused.

"Oh. Oh I must have forgotten to mention that. Well anyways, it was, and I could use it as a way to get to the Shrieking Shack, where I could transform, but not hurt anyone. The howls everyone heard coming from the Shack were actually made by me. But when everyone started circulating ghost stories about the Shack, Dumbledore didn't put a stop to them, he even encouraged them. Apparently, he thought they were a bit of a laugh. Anyways, I tried to hide my condition from my friends, but your dad and Sirius were some of the smartest students in school, and they figured it out…with no help from Peter of course, he was always kind of dumb."

From somewhere in Ron's pocket came a protesting squeak.

Lupin continued, "They figured it out and became Animagus so they could be with me when I changed, you see, werewolves only hurt people."

Hermione shook her head, "No, that can't be true. All the Animagus are registered, and none of your names were on the list. When Professor McGonagall assigned us that report on them, I did a lot of research."

"Cough cough…doorknob!" wheezed Harry.

Hermione glared, "Oh, shut up."

"Yes, that's true," admitted Lupin, "but they didn't register because they didn't want anyone to know. So, when they were with me, we would get out of the Shrieking Shack and explore the ground, making our map. It's got most of the grounds, all of the castle, and every secret passageway."

Harry gasped. "WHA? The map shows you secret passageways! I NEVER SAW THAT!"

Hermione ignored him, "This is all nice, Professor, but what does it have to do Black and Harry's parents?"

Ron's face turned a bit greener, "Not meaning to bother you or anything, but the leg is broken you know, there's bits of bone sticking out and everything. So, if you could kind of, oh I don't know, speed things up a little…?"

Lupin took a breath, then deflated. "Actually, I was kind of wondering that myself. I think I can piece together what happened from the strange name I saw on the map, just a few minutes ago. Sirius, would you care to take over?"

Black grunted, "When Voldemort was after your parents, they asked me to be their Secret Keeper, but I persuaded them at the last moment to use Peter Pettigrew instead. As it turned out, Peter was working for the Dark Lord all along, the filthy little rat…" He suddenly stopped, and laughed, "Hey, that was funny! Ahaha, ooh, what a pun. Anyways," He slipped back into the sorrowful attitude, "Oh, the irony! He betrayed your parents and led to their murders."

Harry shrugged, "Oh, okay."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Well, you seem to be taking this…well."

"Well, I can't live in denial, I just have to accept it and move on." Harry nodded sagely.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Hedwig's dead."

"SHE'S NOT DEAD! NO, HEDWIG, WHY!"

Black blinked, "_Anyways, _when I found out, I was furious that I had let this happen, and went after Peter. I managed to corner him one day in an alley, but he used his wand behind his back and created the explosion that killed all those Muggles. He used it as a distraction to get away, leaving me to take the blame."

Lupin frowned, "But the finger…?"

Scabbers crawled out of Ron's pocket.

Lupin gasped, "Oh Merlin, look! He's missing a finger!" He pointed to Scabber's paw, with was…well…missing a finger.

Black grabbed Scabbers, "Aha! You filthy little-"

Lupin tapped him on the shoulder, "Remember, this is classified as Children's Literature."

Black pouted, "Oh, all right. You filthy little…uh…traitor?"

Lupin nodded.

"Yeah! You filthy little traitor! YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED, OR AT LEAST FAKED A SICK DAY AT THE RIDDLE HOUSE, THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS!"

Ron reddened. Anyone looking at him would be forcibly reminded of Christmas, "What are you talking about? That's my rat, Scabbers!"

Lupin shook his head, pointing his wand at Scabbers, "No Ron, this isn't a rat."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Oh, and I suppose it's a dolphin then? What do you think it is, of course it's a rat!"

Hermione held up a finger, "Well, technically it's a mouse…"

"No," said Sirius dramatically, "it's PETER PETTIGREW!"

Everyone stared blankly. Crickets chirped in the background.

Since it didn't seem to have the effect he wanted, Black tried again. "It's PETER _PETTIGREW_?"

Everyone gasped.

"What! That's impossible!" shouted Ron.

Lupin looked a little surprised, "No Ron, it makes perfect sense. Peter's animagus form was a rat. Why do you think we called him Wormtail?"

Ron squinted, "Because…he was a worm?"

"No. Now, I'm going to show him for what he really is! Sirius? On the count of three." The two wizards pointed their wands at a frantic Scabbers.

"No, don't hurt him!" shouted Ron.

Sirius sneered, "Oh yeah, and what're you gonna do about it broken-leg boy?"

"Oh yeah," said Ron, "good point."

"One."

"Two."

"THREE."

A white light shot out of both wands and hit the small rat. Before their eyes, the rat rapidly changed shape, getting larger and larger until the rat was gone, and a small man stood before them where the rat had been. He was extremely freakish looking, with weird tufts of hair, a hideous overbite, and a bad fashion sense.

"My friends!" he exclaimed, sobbing, "My two old friends!"

Ron cringed, "I slept with a man!" He thought a bit more, "An _ugly _man!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I smell a rat."

Peter blushed.

Lupin and Sirius raised their wands higher.

Peter suddenly looked worried, "No…no! About James…"

Suddenly, Snape jumped through the splintered doorway. "Aha!"

"_Expelliarmus," _said Harry lazily, flinging Snape against the opposite wall with a flick of his wand. Snape slid down the surface with a squeak.

Everyone stared at him.

Harry shrugged, "What? I want to hear this. What about my dad?"

Snape lay in a twitching heap, the dusty wall behind him imprinted with his outline.

Peter blinked, "Um…wait, you're James' son? Harry!" He threw himself at Harry's feet. "Save me, please! Be a good person, like your father. He wouldn't have let them kill me!"

Sirius pulled him back up. "It's too late for that now! You killed James and Lily! They were your friends and you killed them!"

Peter stuttered, "Well…well technically _I_ didn't kill them…"

Lupin looked a little red, "How long? How long were you planning to betray them? Since the end of school? Since the school reunion bowling party? Since choosing that unfortunate hairstyle? HOW LONG!"

Pettigrew cringed, "No, no! Uh…he made me do it!"

A look of understanding dawned on Harry's face, "…so…so…so…you…_aren't_…dead?"

Pettigrew looked to Black, "Is he really serious?"

Black sighed, "I'm afraid so."

Peter nodded, "Ah, just like you father, then!" Peter turned away and started talking to himself, "Then maybe I should use the Quidditch approach."

He turned back to Harry, "Oh Harry, say if I were a Quaffle, you would want to deflate me, would you? Pretend Lupin and Black are Beaters on the opposite team, you won't let them get me, will you?"

Harry started sweating, "Darn your Quidditch logic! I…I just don't know!"

Black raised his wand, "Forget this! Peter, you're going down! _A…_"

"NOOO!" Harry jumped in front of Peter. "No. It's not right. I mean, I wanted to viciously kill you for being the dirty traitor who killed my parents, no offense-"

"None taken." Said Sirius. He suddenly snorted, "I mean, I am pretty dirty, but not as dirty as that kid. What happened to your face, by the way?"

"Exactly what do you mean by that!"

Harry continued as if he had not been interrupted "-but I don't want to hurt him, the person who actually killed my parents. I'm not really sure why, actually, it's kind of stupid and doesn't make sense, but whatever, at least it's in character. Oh, and we don't learn the Killing Curse till next year, anyways."

Peter groveled, hugging Harry around the knees, "Oh, thank you Harry!"

Harry pulled away, "Gross. No, I said they shouldn't kill you. You should go to the dementors and to Azkaban, where you belong!"

Peter suddenly looked frantic. "No! Not the dementors! Um…okay, say I were the Snitch…"

Harry covered his ears, "I will be swayed by Quidditch no more! I can't hear you! LALALALALA!"

"It's the dementors for you, pal," said Lupin dramatically, "Book 'im, Hermione!"

Hermione took out A Comprehensive List of Every Lie a Politician Has Ever Told, and slapped Peter over the head. He crumpled immediately.

Lupin shook his head. "He never had a chance."

Sirius smiled wolfishly, "Suddenly, I love politicians."

Ron, laying in bed screamed. "Hello….! BROKEN LEG HERE."

From somewhere above and far off, a voice that sounded like Harry's shouted, "Hurry up all ready!"

A far off Hermione voice answered, "Shhh! Harry, we can't let them see or hear us!"

"I don't care; they're eating into my dramatic almost-death scene. HURRY IT UP!"

The voice suddenly became muffled and faded away.

Harry blinked, "What was that?"

Hermione shrugged, fidgeting with a gold chain around her neck. "I…I don't know."

Harry wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen next, as they headed back out of the tunnel. All he could do was look at Sirius, his godfather, and wonder if maybe, just maybe, here was someone that could be like a father to him. After all, what could possibly happen?

* * *

**_Oddly_**


	25. Karma

Karma, what a lovely topic, isn't it? I myself, don't believe in it, but then again, I am writing this monstrosity, aren't I?

That Loser

**Chapter 25: Karma**

Really, what could possibly happen in the next two years to deprive Harry of his Godfather in an evil-window-curtain-like manner? What karma could befall the Boy-Who-Often-Laughed-At-The-Dark-Lord-And-Had-Unknowingly-Obtained-Top-Numbers-On-Manys-Hit-Lists? It wasn't like, like, bad things happened to him _all the time_. And watching his dirty Godfather twitch in the moonlight, Harry smiled briefly, it looked as if everything was going to be alrigh—

"I LIVE!" Snape screamed, jumping to his feet after Sirius had dragged him out of the Shack, beating him against the tunnel walls and drawing 'I'm an ugly, greasy git." across his forehead.

"I WILL KILL YOU-OR SEVERELY INCONVENIENCE THE REST OF YOUR INNOCENT LIFE, SIRIUS BLAC—!"

"Stupefy." Lupin sighed.

"GAAHARRGGHH!"

Professor Snape slumped back down to the ground; Sirius kicked him in the kidneys.

After he bruised his toe, a sad-mystical sound-track type of music drifted over the picturesque view of Hogwarts at night, Sirius stumbled over towards Harry and stood solemnly beside him.

"Harry…" he whispered. "I don't know if you know this,…but I am the Godfather."

The music screeched to a stop and picked up a jaunty tune.

_When the moon hits your eyes,_

_Like a big pizza pie,_

_That's,_

_Amoorrrre! _

Harry gasped. "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!"

Sirius frowned. "No, I meant, I'm your Godfather, did you know that?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well yeah!" Fishing around in his pocket, he held up a book. "I even had this book printed…" The pizza-pie moonlight glinted off the bold red letters: Godfathery Dearest . "I mean, what kind of loser did you think I was…jeez, you've been trying to kill me for a while now."

"But just in the Shack we saw Peter, don't you remember…?"

Harry held up his hands at Sirius's bark. "Hey now, lets not point any fingers—"

"…!"

"—all I'm saying is that I was a little disappointed when I learned my voodoo dolls were all for nothing…oh and this too…"

Harry pulled a shotgun out of his pants. "Oh, and this…" He next unstrapped a dagger from his arm. "And this…" out next came a pointy foot-long needle. "_And_ this…" a sword and a metal breast plate and a lance, and a goblin battle-axe.

Peter quietly shuffled away during the bonding period, leaving behind a misshapened scarecrow, with the word **PETER** messily scrawled across its chest.

"Hey, guys…" Ron spoke up.

"Quiet Ron! I want to see what happens!" Hermione hissed, pointing at Harry and Sirius.

"Fine!" Ron sulked.

"Oh, let's not forget…" Last Harry pulled out the shiny jewel-encrusted Gryffindor Mop. He sighed, patting it fondly. "I would take off my red-cape, but I know something life-changing occurs at the end of every Hogwarts Year, so I'll just leave it on and see what happens…"

Lupin viciously bit into a bloody lamb chop, and itched the back of his neck savagely.

"Everything okay, Professor?" Hermione asked.

Lupin tore off another chunk. "Yes, I'm sure it's nothing important…but it seems like I forgot to do something…Oh yes!" He searched franticly in the folds of his cloak, and brought forth a container of chocolate syrup; he poured it over the slab of meat. "Ahhhh…that's _perfecto_."

The sad music picked up again and Sirius suddenly gathered an Italian accent. "Harry." He whispered heavily. "I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse…"

"A horse head in my bed?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Harry, how would you like to st—"

"—you know I really wouldn't mind a horse head—"

"—Harry! How would you like to live with me?"

Harry's eyes grew wide in child-like native innocence. A native like quality that Harry would still possess years from now, that enabled him to solve a complex riddle a year, that adults never could, and stumble his way through any challenge. He was so native, he was _good_.

"S-st-stay-stay? With_ you?_" Harry gapped at him for a while. "Yes! Yes! Of course! Do you have your own place? When can I move my mop collection in?"

Sirius's face broke out into the first smile Harry had ever seen from him, the clouds parted and the moon's heavenly glow shined down atop his head.

"_Ahhh ah ahhh…" _the angels hummed in the background of the clouds. Professor Lupin threw a lamb chop bone at them.

Ron scoffed. "Oh yeah, everyone offers Harry places to live! But nooo! Let's not hurry Ron to the hospital, because poor widdle Harry has finally found a father-figure. Blah! It makes me SICK!"

"Isn't this great Ron!" Harry screamed over at him, behind his hug with Sirius.

"THAT'S BLOODY BRILLIANT, MATE!" Ron grinned, giving him a thumbs up. His leg bone wiggled as it jutted out of the skin.

Hermione sniffed, whipping back tears with a book: Family Ties: What Bonds Orphan Boys and Convicts.

Peter was being unusually quiet.

And suddenly, Lupin did realize that the clouds really have cleared quite dramatically…and…_oh shit._

A strange tingling sensation, Lupin would later recall. As he reared back, his head thrown into the light of the moon, his scream turning into a deep howl, his body twisting against the moon's rays.

And Sirius ran forward. "Moony! This heart is were you truly live! This heart! You are no monster!"

"THIRTEEN YEARS IN AZKABAN AND THAT'S THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH?" Hermione screeched as the three friends huddled together away from the two best friends, one friend who wanted to tear the other's head off.

Sirius turned around and shrugged. "Yeah…that's the best I can do…"

And with one final triumph howl, the werewolf was done transforming.

Harry squinted at it through the darkness. "Is that…? That can't be…_what?_"

Ron laughed. "It's an alien!"

Hermione too frowned at 'Moony'. "Why is it standing on two legs?"

The scarecrow-Peter flopped over.

Sirius was slowly backing towards the trio away from the werewolf. "Now might be a good time to run the hell away." He whispered to him.

The trio shivered together, still huddled in the same spot.

"—actually, about the best time in the world, to make your get away, in fact…"

Ron started sobbing.

"Look. It's a basic instinct, right? Fire? Run. Deadly disease? Run. Snape? Run, or throw large rock and giggle as you scamper away. Man turning into big hairy, blood-thirsty, lots-o' claws and fangs, that wants to eat your hearts and rip off your heads-werewolf? Run. It happens to be your teacher? Well maybe if you throw that rock hard enough, you'll get lucky and get a few days off homework…"

'Moony' howled, diving for the foursome; Sirius leapt forward, turning into a dog and pushed him back; a fight ensued.

Harry eyed them critically. "You know…that big black dog looks really familiar…where have I seen him before…?"

Lupin drop-kicked Padfoot like a soccer ball, then turned his sights on the three students.

Ron giggled weakly. "Heee—y…you guys, maybe we should shake a leg…?"

Harry nodded quickly. "I agree!"

Lupin was coming closer, drool dripping between his fangs. Harry and Ron turned to sprint away—

"NO! WAIT!"

They froze, slowly, disbelievingly, turned to stare wide-eyed at Hermione. "WHAT? WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU HAVE TO TELL US NOW?"

Hermione ignored them, and inched forward towards Lupin. "Professor?"

Moony howled, rearing back; Harry and Ron clutched each other screaming—

"Ahahaha! Why yes! It is me!" the werewolf laughed.

Harry and Ron twitched in each other's arms.

"I'm so glad you are here to snap me out of that! My goodness, something horrible could happened…" Moony relayed conversationally, munching on a chocolate bar that had just appeared.

"I mean—" Moony took a large bite out of the bar, his huge fangs stained with chocolate. "I know I just punted Sirius across the Grounds, and even though it was you yourself, Hermione, in class, that told us a werewolf would kill his best friend even, in this form, I'm so glad that SOMEONE will talk to me! It's very lonely, you know, this time of month. Back in my Hogwarts days all I had to look at was Sirius sniffing his butt and James getting his antlers caught in the chandler..." He smiled brightly at them, deformed behind the massive fangs.

Snape suddenly leaped to his feet, a hand holding his head. "Wahaha…" he giggled weakly, spinning around, as if trying to find someone. "I got you…now…Black…" he paused, staring at Lupin. "OH NOT AGAIN."

"Me No Like!" Moony snarled, smelling Snape's greasy hair. And he lunged forward—Padfoot took this opportunity to reappear, bowling Moony over, leading him away from the humans.

Snape giggled weakly again, pointing his own wand at his forehead. "Stupefy!"

"Oh no! What are we going to do?" Hermione gasped, biting her nails.

There was a hard, determined look in Harry's eyes as he checked to make sure his cape's knot was tied fast. "I don't know what you two are going to do, but I'm going to go save a man I have only just heard about a couple moths ago, and learned an hour ago didn't want to kill me's life from an extremely dangerous werewolf!" Then saluting, Harry skipped away, his hand still in the air.

Ron and Hermione watched him trip over a root and continue his journey after Moony.

"So…" Ron spoke up nonchalantly. "Think I can have his identity and fan-mail when he dies?"

* * *

Harry found the two men/canines on the edge of a cliff, a cliff that hadn't been there a year ago, along with the bridge. The tall grasses shook in the wild breeze, as Sirius stumbled backwards.

"NOOOOO! GODFATHER-WHOM-I-HAVE-JUST-MET!" Harry quickly threw down his wand-his magical wand-which had gotten him out of dangerous situations many times before-and picked up a rock.

He threw it.

It landed half-heartily five paces in front of him.

Oh no! Now what was he going to use now to rescue Sirius!

A call suddenly rose up out of the forests. _"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"_

Harry glanced at the thick woods, the sounds of spirits haunting the midnight grounds…

"NO! You idiot! That's not the right one!"

"Then why don't you try it if you're so smart, Hermione!"

What could these wailings of the departed souls, mean? Harry wondered.

"Okay then…"

"No, no, no! Let me try one more time!"

"WOULD YOU HURRY UP?" Lupin barked. "I NEED TO PICK SOMEONE."

"_MIIAAAWWW!" _

"Oh, move over! _WOOF WOOF BARK!"_

Harry stared entranced at the realistic howls of another werewolf in the forest, would it bite him? Eat him? Do his homework?

Moony sighed, and even though Sirius and Harry were five feet from him, ran off down the hill, fifty feet away, into the forest.

Sirius looked up, transforming back into himself, smiling as Harry walked towards him. "Jolly good jo—uh!" Sirius slipped backwards off the cliff, rolling to the shores of the lake.

"No!" Harry cried. "Don't worry, Sirius! I'm coming!"

Harry slowly lowered himself down the five-foot drop cliff side. He carefully picked his way around the stones jutting out here and there.

"Slow and steady, wins the race…" he muttered to himself, not yet ready to let go of the top grasses.

Ten minutes pass…

The Dementors gather around the lake shore, hands on hips. Two familiar looking figures huddle in the bushes.

"COME ON, MAN."

Harry glanced over at them. "DADDY! I'LL DO IT DAD! I'LL DO IT FOR YOU!"

Another ten minutes pass…

Harry was in a predicament, where to put his foot now…

A random pop sounded next to him, Dumbledore quickly grabbed him and apparated him to the shore, then quickly popped away.

Harry dropped to his knees. "SIRIUS! I'M HERE FOR YOU!"

The Dementors had taken out straws by now and started sucking the happiness from the air, a mighty wind picking up; off to the side one put on lipstick.

"Harry!" Sirius gagged, eyeing the Dementor apply _Ruby Red,_ as Harry defiantly flailed his fists at them. "They're gonna give me the kiss! Hurry! Help me to my feet!"

Harry blushed. "Sirius! I don't need to be hearing this kind of talk!...What, really? On the first date?"

"Quickly! Help me to my feet!" he tried to sit up.

"Oh no!" Harry tsked, pushing him back down. "You're hurt, you need to lay still and rest."

"WERE GOING TO BE KILLED!"

"What! Really?"

"Ok, well, no…BUT A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"

Harry rolled his eyes, the wind ripping chunks out of his hair. "Yeah, sure Sirius…"

Something rotting and coarse grabbed his arm, twisting Harry to his feet, pulling him closer…

"Look, Sirius!" Harry pointed eagerly, "He wants to hug me for rescuing you!"

Sirius mutely looked on, pale and rapidly blinking.

The ghost voices of the spirits of the forest drifted over…

"What! Well _I_ think it looks happy to see me!"

_mumblemumbleMUTTERMUTTERmutter…_

"Oh, alright…"

A bright light exploded, shining on the lake, bring the scene into sharp relief, turning the darkness into daylight, and a shape…a glowing shape…racing towards them…

Harry squinted, falling out of the grasp of the Dementor, at a figure standing on the edge of the blinding light, it looked boyish, so obviously…

"Papa?"

Harry, trying to shield himself from the radiant light, turned slowly to grin at his Godfather. "Look, Sirius! My Papa sent a glowing hippo to save us!"

"It's a stag you loser!" Sirius snapped, hitting upside the head.

And that was the last thing he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"HARRY!" Hermione slapped him.

"HARRY!" She backhanded him with her clipboard.

"HAAR—!"

Harry bolted upright in his bed, gasping.

Hermione sadly lowered the hammer, then smartly checked something off on her clipboard.

"Congratulations, Harry! I think we've gonna make the quota!"

Harry blinked, looking around the room, they were in the hospital wing…he swung around to look out the window…it was still night, a full moon shinin—

"Where's Sirius!"

Hermione was settling back into her bed, she shrugged, and Ron was glaring over at him.

"They _insisted_ to check you over before they would fix my leg."

Harry stared blankly at the cast.

"I'm happy to report they found nothing." Ron hissed.

"Hey, I'm not the one who was sleeping with a man—"

"—OH NO! NO! LALALALALALA!" Ron screwed up his face in disgust.

At that moment Dumbledore walked into the room, slamming the double doors open.

"Dumbledore!" Harry wheeled around. "Where's Sirius? What's happening?"

"THREE TURNS!" Dumbledore squawked, pacing the room.

"I—I…don't understand…"

"The voice of a child is pointless…" Dumbledore muttered to himself, eyeing the three students.

"Dumbledore, what does this have to do with anything…?"

"Ohho!" Dumbledore's eyes lit up, spying Ron. "Wow, this must really hurt!" He slapped Ron's broken leg.

"ARRGHHH!"

"You must have done something really stupid to deserve this!" Dumbledore pummeled his injury joyfully.

"GGGAHH! Actually, no…it was Sirius…"

"Yeah, but still…" Dumbledore smacked the leg again, sucking on a lemon drop. "You were keeping Peter Pettigrew as your pet for a number of years with out realizing it, that's pretty stupid…bad karma…bad karma…"

"AARRGGH! YOU DIDN'T REALIZE IT EITHER!"

He clapped his leg once more, thoughtfully. "Yes, well…why is there mold on this young man's face…?"

"What mold?"

"Ah…yes…" Dumbledore quickly stepped away, motioning the two other Gryffindors nearer to him. "Now, Ms. Granger, you know the laws, you must not be seen, if you're good, you may save more than one life tonight—Black is held on the topmost tower, strangely easily accessible from the outside from a broom…or hippogriff per say…THREE TURNS!"

Hermione nodded. "Right."

Harry stood there confused as Dumbledore skipped out of the room.

And Ron…"OH, DON'T TELL RON YOUR SECRET PLAN, NOOOO! NO ONE TELLS ME ANYTHING!—"

Hermione was ignoring him, reaching inside her robes she pulled out a strange gold necklace, with an hourglass on the end…

"It's a Time-Turner…" she hissed, looping the chain around Harry as well as herself. "This is what's been allowing me to get to all my classes…"

"WHAT? THERES BEEN NO EVIDENCE OF THAT, AT ALL!"

Hermione smiled, rotating the hourglass three times. "We're going to go back in time to save Sirius and Buckbeak."

"WHA—?"

"—Hold on."

"—BECAUSE EVERYONE THINKS I'M JUST HARRY POTTER AND HERMIONE GRANGER'S STUPID FRIE—"

* * *

It was a lurching sensation, like someone had grabbed tightly onto your hand and rushed you through an empty doorway into space…there was a flash of figures…on the other side…and with a sickening gut-dropping sensation they appeared, in a run, Hermione dragging him out into the grounds.

"Where…are…we…going…?" Harry panted, as they ran towards Hagrid's Hut. Hermione jerked him into the garden and they hid behind a couple giant pumpkins.

"Wow! I didn't know pumpkins grew in May…"

"We're following our footsteps!" Hermione hissed at him, drawing his attention away from the marvels of vegetable growth.

"What? Is—is that _us?_ In there?"

"Yes—"

Harry jumped quickly to his feet, his red battered cape streaming in the wind. "KILL." He marched forward towards Hagrid's Hut, pushing the door open…

"NO!" Hermione dive-bombed after him, pushing him out of the doorway and closing it quickly with a snap. "You mustn't be seen! Not even to go after Pettigrew!"

Inside the Hut…

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Ron."

"OH? SO NOW MY OBSERVATIONS AREN'T IMPORTANT?"

"Uh…yeah."

"BUT I MUST KILL!" Harry screamed. "I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT WHEN I LEARNED THE HORRIABLE TRUTH, BUT ONCE MY RAGE SETTLED DOWN, SIX OR SEVEN HOURS LATER, I NOW FEEL LIKE IT!"

"Harry! We have to save Buckbeak! Anyways, what would you think if you saw yourself run through that Hut right now?" Hermione demanded.

Harry paused. "I'd think 'Cool! A Twin!'."

Hermione faltered. "Well…uh…What do you think Ron would think then? Eh? EH?"

"He'd think 'Cool! Harry's Twin!'."

"WELL WHAT ABOUT ME—?"

"You already know about the Time-Turner."

"YES, WEL—you have a point…"

Suddenly voices floated near them from the front of Hagrid's Hut…

"I SAY. WHAT A LOVELY DAY TO BE **QUICKLY** WALKING TO HAGRID'S HUT! I SAY. I HOPE THERE ISN'T ANYONE HERE THAT SHOULDN'T BE! I SAY. THEY SHOULD PROBABLY NOT BE CAUGHT! I SAY! I SAY!" Dumbledore quietly exchanged with the others from the Ministry.

"Oh no!" Hermione gasped. "We haven't left Hagrid's yet! Or freed Buckbeak!"

"WHAT A MARVELOUS HIPPOGRIFF, EVERY ONE SEEN? GOOD, YOU JUST MIGHT NOT SEE IT AGAIN, I SAY."

Hermione chucked a rock through the window. Nothing happened. She threw a bigger rock.

"Why aren't you moving?" She hissed at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember getting hit with anything…"

Hermione grunted, bending down to dead-lift a ten-foot pumpkin. "Y-yo-you get Buckbeak…" she whispered hoarsely as she tittered near the Hut.

Harry nodded, walking towards the Hippogriff as a sound of carnage was heard behind him.

"Buckbeak! Here Buckbeak!" Harry cooed.

Buckbeak's mad rolling red eyes glared at Harry, it flexed its large chest muscles, one had a tattoo of a heart with the word _MUMMY_ written across it.

"Hurry up Harry!"

It was Harry's native charm that won once again; he spun around just in time to reply to Hermione as Buckbeak snapped it's beak down in for the kill, it got a mouthful of Harry's red cape.

"I'm coming! Hey, looky! Buckbeaky wantsa play! How cute!" Harry cooed, bodily dragging both of them into the leafy foliage of the forest along with Hermione.

Dumbledore screamed up from his big-boy bike, pointing wildly towards the lake, "Look, a distraction!"

"Where!" Harry cried, searching around.

Hermione sighed, watching themselves tumble out of Hagrid's Hut.

There's something to say about Karma, Harry and the gang had a lot of it. But no one had ever specifically informed them what type.

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	26. Lookin For Love in All the Wrong Places

The last chapter of the third book is here, and the next installment of Edmund! Harry gets more loserish, the plot gets thicker, and why doesn't someone just kill the fichus!

That Loser

**Chapter 26: Lookin For Love in All the Wrong Places**

Hermione snickered.

Harry glared. "What?"

The two friends where watching themselves run out of Hagrid's hut to the large, neon white rock.

Hermione smirked, "You look funny when you run, you know that, right?" Hermione watched as Harry ran with limbs flailing around everywhere, tripping over everything in sight, including pumpkins, rocks, and Ron, though mostly over his own feet.

Harry gasped, "_TAKE THAT BACK!_" He sniffed, "I happen to think I look pretty dashing when I run, if I do say so myself-"

Hermione slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh! Here we come." Their past selves crouched behind the rock, panting.

Harry massaged a bright red hand-shaped blotch on his cheek. "Ow."

"Oh…oh, it that what my hair looks like from the back?" Hermione gasped. There was a giant wad of gum protruding out of the back of her past self's head like a sugary pink tumor.

Past Hermione suddenly turned around, "Did you hear that?"

Hiding in the woods, Harry smirked. "You mean, you didn't notice that!"

Hermione looked close to tears, "Well, I…I just never really checked in the back. Hey, didn't you see that I had that thing stuck to my head?"

Harry suddenly turned sober, "Well, actually me and Ron thought it was because you were so smart, and your extra brains that got so crowded they just kind of…spilled out. We didn't want to embarrass you."

Hermione groaned, "Oh, so _that's _why that first year ran away from me screaming 'Help it's the Brain Monster!'?"

Harry chuckled in fond memory, "Oh yeah, we thought we've scare the gullible ones a little…uh…Hermione, you don't look so good…"

"YOU THINK! YOU LET ME WALK AROUND ALL YEAR WITH A GUM WAD STUCK IN MY HAIR, AND YOU 'DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS ME'"? Oh well, YOU DID A PRETTY GOOD JOB OF IT!"

Harry cowered, "No! Please don't eat me Brain Monster!"

Hermione slapped him on the arm, "Shudup shudup, we're leaving!"

Past Hermione, Harry, and Ron ran off towards the Willow.

"Now we just have to wait until we come out, then do something about Professor Lupin, save you and Sirius, and get Sirius out of the tower. Okay, now we wait."

Harry cradled his arm protectively, "You know, this relationship has turned extremely abusive. Does someone have anger issues?"

Hermione glared and shoved some black clothing at him, "Just be quiet and put these on. From now until Sirius is safe, we're on…COMMANDO MODE!"

* * *

Somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds…

The tall yellow grass rustled in the night breeze. A pair of black binoculars poked out and surveyed the Whomping Willow. Stake out music played quietly in the background. But the mysterious moment was broken when Harry suddenly barreled out of the bushes.

"I can't take this anymore!" He said; sweat pouring down his camouflage-painted face. "Too much quiet!"

"Shhh! All right then, what do you want to talk _quietly _about?"

"Mops!" Harry's eyes brightened. "I saw this new mop in Loser Hobbies Weekly, although admittedly, there weren't really many mops!" Harry snorted, "I mean, mostly it was just pictures of girls wearing leather holding a mop, or posing with a mop. It was horrible, I mean, in half of the pictures the bottom of the mop was even cut off. CUT OFF, I tell you! Why buy a magazine of mops when all it's got is pictures of girls!"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he was being sarcastic, or just incredibly naive. One look into his large, innocent eyes said everything. "Uh, no idea. Anyways, here's what I've been wondering. What exactly happened with the dementors?"

Harry nodded, suddenly serious. "Oh yes. Well you see, the dementors were so happy to see that I'd saved Sirius-"

"-But you didn't…"

"-that they wanted to give me a big kiss. But, I was thought that was a bit farther than I wanted to go on our first date, I mean, if it had to go see a badly made sequel at the movie theater and _accidentally _bump hands getting popcorn or something…but anyways my dad was there, and he sent the glowing Hippo of Abstinence to drive the dementors away until such a time that I felt ready to move onto the next step of our relationship."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Can you try not to be such a loser, Harry?"

"But…but I can't help it!" said Harry desperately, "It's in my nature! Painfully naïve, odd looking, funny scar, total loser. IT'S LOCKED INTO THE FABRIC OF MY BEING!" Harry stood there panting from the passion of his speech.

Hermione blinked. "You done now?"

"NEVER! AND FURTHERMORE…okay, yeah, I'm done."

"Good, because we wouldn't want you to do anything stupid that would totally jeopardize the mission Dumbledore gave us and let someone see us or hear us or-"

"Hurry up already down there! I mean seriously, time is ticking away and I don't really want to hear anymore of your stupid sad werewolf stories, so just cut it out!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs down the gaping tunnel into the Whomping Willow.

"Amen, brother!" said the weak voice of Ron somewhere below.

Hermione closed her eyes, "Something like that. Honestly, why do I even bring him?" Hermione, holding Buckbeak's rope in one hand, and a struggling loser in the other, managed to dive out of sight, just as their past selves, accompanied by Professor Lupin, Sirius, and an unconscious Snape, exited the willow tunnel.

Harry sniffed, "Mmm, pizza."

Harry's past self was hugging Sirius to the sound of Sinatra crooning about love, lunar phenomena, and Americanized Italian cuisine.

Hermione suddenly gasped, pointing to Peter, who was sitting lopsided against a tree trunk, leaking bits of straw and black paint. "Doesn't Peter look a little…different?"

Harry shrugged, "I see no difference whatsoever! I mean, the letters says PETER right across his chest, and you can't argue with letters," Harry leaned closer to Hermione and whispered conspiritally, "the letters _know _things."

Hermione leaned away from Harry's onion breath. "Right. But still…I can't quite put my finger on it…"

A pair of Mickey Mouse ears drooped to one side on Scarecrow Peter's head.

Hermione shrugged, "Nope. Oh well, hey look, Professor Lupin's changing!"

Harry snorted, "You know, I don't think that's what a werewolf should look like. He looks kind of like an alien."

"Or a large rabid monkey."

"Or a crippled fruit bat."

"_Or _if you look at him from the side, kind of like a profile of Abraham Lincoln."

Both Harry and Hermione nodded and continued to look at Professor Lupin from different angles while he shredded up Sirius into kibble and threateningly descended on the three trembling third years.

Harry laughed, munching popcorn. "They'd better move or something, or they'll be D-E-A-D-D Dead!"

Hermione gasped, "Harry, not only is that atrociously bad spelling, but I've just realized something! We've got to save them! Remember the werewolf call we heard that lured Professor Lupin away?"

Harry brightened, "Right! _COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"_

Hermione smacked him on the back of the head, "Idiot, that's not the right one!"

Harry smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I mean, you'd think after the second time…"

"_MIIAAAWWW!" _

"Or not." She shoved Harry aside, "Oh move over! I, in fact, can do an incredibly lifelike impression of a werewolf!"

"Really, where'd you learn that?"

Hermione suddenly looked nervous, "Uh, Girl Scout Happy Daisy Muffin summer camp."

"What kind of summer camp was-?"

"_WOOF WOOF BARK!_"

The wolf hesitated, then galloped toward them.

Harry stood still in contentment, a dumb smile on his face. "So, uh, what were we planning to do now?"

Hermione raised a scholarly finger, then froze, "Oh…I…I hadn't actually got to that part."

"WHAT!" Harry screamed shaking Hermione by the shoulders as the wolf came closer, "Hermione, you've got to save me! My worst fear is, of course, loosing all my mops, but only just in second place is my fear of being eaten by a mutilated fruit bat/alien that resembles Abraham Lincoln from the side! Do something!"

Hermione panicked, "Uh, right. Hurry, get behind a tree. Maybe it's blind! And deaf…and has no sense of smell…and stupid wouldn't hurt…"

Harry jumped behind a centimeter thick sapling. "I'm ready, bring on the alien!"

Hermione blinked, "Yeah, definitely banking on the stupidity."

She quickly jumped behind a boulder as the wolf approached, growling menacingly.

"Psst!"

The wolf continued to sniff around aimlessly, growling as Harry made as much noise as is humanly possibly from one person standing still.

"PSST!" spat Harry, as he picked up twigs and snapped them in half. "PSST! HERMIONE, I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!" He threw a rock at her, which bounced off her head, and stuck in her large clump of gum.

Hermione turned to him with wide angry eyes, "What!"

"Throw the chocolate to it!" said Harry, "Maybe it will distract him!"

Hermione gasped, "Why…why I never! What makes you think I…I have chocolate!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Come on, Hermione, we all know. You show all the signs, and we found your little stash of coco in plastic baggies."

Hermione started sweating.

Harry nodded knowingly, "In the hollowed out copy of I'm Addicted to Your Lovin'?"

Hermione gasped, "Why were you reading Shilliam Wakespeare anyway? I never knew you were into hippie poets of the later 70's!"

Harry shook his head sadly, "Hermione, I think you are avoiding the issue here. The chocolate?"

Hermione's lower lip trembled, "Well…well it wasn't much. Just a little, to, you know, clear my mind while I studied!"

"It's time to just let it go, Hermione. Just let it go."

She bit her lower lip and, with her shaking hand she tossed a clear plastic bag of Hershey's bars toward Professor Lupin, sighing as it left her brown stained fingertips.

Lupin suddenly started talking again. "By jove, look, chocolate! You know, if there were anyone around right now, I would definitely not eat them and do all I could to help them save Sirius who is now most likely being preyed upon by dementors who-" Lupin's face turned blue and he stopped and gasped for breath. "Whew, I really need to cut down on the foreshadowing a little."

"Profess-!" Hermione began to call out.

"AHA!" Snape suddenly leapt out from behind a tree.

"_Stupefy!_"

Snape hit the ground.

Harry smiled, blowing smoke from his wand, "That never gets old!"

Hermione grabbed his arm and ran toward the ridge where Sirius was being preyed upon by dementors, as Lupin so accurately stated. "Hurry, let's hope Snape will keep him occupied so we can get away!"

So, the night was full of Snape's flying arms, legs, and other various appendages, as the two friends raced toward Sirius, hoping they would be soon enough to save their dear friend and themselves from death by over-affection.

* * *

"There, there you are!" whispered Hermione, pointing to the scenic knoll, where moonlight reflected off the glassy lake with a silvery glow, and Past Harry and Sirius were getting the happiness sucked out of them. "You know, this would be a really beautiful place…if it weren't for your tortured screams haunting my memories…"

"YES, MY DAD IS ON HIS WAY!" Harry jumped around, excited, "Any second now, he's going to show up!"

Hermione gasped, "Look, the dementor is about to kiss you!"

"Lookin for love in all the wrong places, lookin for love. Ooooooohh. Woooooooah. Yeah. Lookin for love…what?" Harry stopped singing as Hermione sent him a death glare. "No really, what!"

"Well, don't just stand there, do something! You're dying over there, and all you can do is butcher some karaoke oldies?"

Harry glanced at her nervously, "But…but you're the one that always does something about a problem. I'm just here to look pretty and come up with outrageous accusations that end up being true!"

Hermione put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Harry, it's got to be you. I know you're more powerful than you think. If you would just look deep down inside…"

Harry blinked, "Is this going to take long, cause my dad's going to be here any second…?"

Hermione turned up her nose. "Fine. Just go and let someone else solve your problems…again!"

"I just don't get it, where is he! I'm dying down there!" Harry paced, while Past Harry below was yelling about just wanting to be friends.

Hermione suddenly brightened, "Wait…are you sure it was your dad?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked defensively, "Of course I'm sure! He was thin and had knobby knees like me, and he had messy black hair like me, and he was loserish like me, and while the color of his eyes was unclear, I'm pretty sure it was him! I've seen pictures of him, Hermione! I mean, unless it were somehow actually me from a few minutes in the future standing there and conjuring the Patronus, then there's no way it couldn't be my dad!"

Hermione slapped her forehead.

Harry look confused, "What?"

"Harry, you are you from a few minutes in the future!"

"Wait, what?"

She sighed, "You're you…"

"Ok, I get that part."

Hermione blinked. "Really? I was expecting…oh, never mind…you're you _from the future!_"

Harry looked at her dumbly. "Okay, okay, I'm me?"

Hermione nodded, encouraging. "Right!"

"Fr…from the future?" Harry's eyes crossed slightly.

"Right, very good! Now, what does that mean?"

"Cool! I have a twin!"

"No, Harry! It means it wasn't your dad you saw…it was you!"

Harry gasped, "From the future!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, right. Finally."

Harry tied on his red cape. "It all makes sense now; I know what I must do! I-"

"But can we skip the monologue this time?" said Hermione, pointing to the scene below, where Past Harry's face was turning blue as the dementor's vacuum of a mouth began to suck out his soul. "You're dying, remember?"

Harry winked, "Right." He donned a Shakespearean costume. "'O most cruel of fate, why dost thou knowest-"

"Just conjure a Patronum!"

Harry blushed, "Oh, right." He cleared him throat, drank a glass of water, gargled. "Eh hem…yes, that'll do nicely, now what was I…? Oh yeah…_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

Harry's cape billowed heroically as a silvery white stag erupted from his wand and cantered gracefully across the lake, charging the dementors with its spectral antlers.

Past Harry, his red cape torn and his cheek bleeding strategically in the right place to get a dramatic camera shot and look hurt, but not too bloody for PG, stretched out a quavering hand. "FATHER!" He then collapsed onto the ground.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Show off."

Meanwhile, Harry collapsed to his knees behind her, his face glimmering in the moonlight with tears. "WHY!"

* * *

"Are…are you sure about this? I mean, riding a hippogriff is really just like riding in an airplane?" Hermione stepped nervously unto Buckbeak's blood drenched back. She daintily nudged aside the severed arm tangled in his mane to make room for her leg.

"Positive!" said Harry brightly. "And that's why you're riding in back!"

Hermione frowned as Harry jumped on in front of her, "But why?"

"In case we experience a little turbulence, you'll go flying off the back…and not me!" He slapped Buckbeak's flank and the deranged hippogriff launched unsteadily into the air.

"WAAAAAAAHHHH!" Hermione latched her arms in a death grip around Harry's neck. "HARRY, I'M SCARED, MAKE IT STOP!"

"You're…blocking…windpipe…can't breathe…don't want…Boy Who Died…Strangled By Second Best Friend…Riding Evil Hippogriff!"

Buckbeak lurched to a stop in front of Sirius' window, which was open.

Sirius jumped to the window, "Harry, Hermione! At last! But how…?"

Harry's eyes bulged unnaturally. He opened his mouth and made a small wheezing sound.

Sirius squinted, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"ssssssssuuwoossiits?"

Sirius shook his head, "Sorry Harry, I don't speak Parseltongue."

Harry shook his head, and held up two fingers.

Hermione clapped, "Oh, charades, I love this game! Okay, first word…"

Harry made a cutting gesture across his throat.

"Decapitation!" Shouted Hermione.

"Death!"

"Macnair is a pansy!"

Harry shook his abnormally bloated head. He made the gesture more forceful.

"Not!"

"Can't?"

Harry pointed, nodding.

"Okay, great! Can't…?"

Harry pantomimed breathing deeply, but ended up wheezing.

"Uh, last breath?"

Harry squinted.

"Close? Um…last supper."

"Last tests? Oh my gosh, finals! I have to study right away!"

Harry shook his head.

"No? Well, then…breathe?"

Harry nodded, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Sirius rested his chin in his hands. "Wait…hmmmm…can't…breathe…"

Hermione raised a hand, "Oh, I've got it: I Can't Breathe! Am I right?"

Harry was laying unconscious across Buckbeak's back. His eyes seemed to have turned into little x's.

"Harry! Don't worry Harry, I can do CPR!" Hermione quickly took out a large yellow book How to do CPR For Dummies. "Okay, step one; tilt the victim's head backward to open breathing passageways. Step two-"

"This is taking to long!" Raged Sirius, "I'll save you Harry! GAAARRRGHHHH!" Sirius beat Harry on the back, until he sat up, sputtering.

"Harry, you're alive!"

Harry looked around, "Am I? I thought this was heaven. But then I saw the creepy looking man hitting me with a bat and wondered if I wasn't in the wrong place."

Sirius looked hurt, "I'm Sirius, remember?"

Harry brightened, "Oh, right!"

Hermione suddenly gasped, "Oh yeah, Fudge will probably be back any minute with the dementors! Hurry through this conveniently open window and get on!"

Harry frowned, "Where are they, anyway?"

* * *

Meanwhile, outside the Little Dementor's Room…

Fudge tapped his foot impatiently to the sound of elevator music and the flushing of toilets. "I thought you things didn't need bathroom breaks! Stupid misleading television ads! And I thought **Dim Lord Moat Lover** Inc. was an honest corporation!"

In one of the pink stalls, a dementor started humming.

"And don't you start singing The Potty Song again, or so help me-"

* * *

"Well, here you are," said Harry, as they alighted on a stone terrace. Harry and Hermione hopped off Buckbeak.

Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder, "Well, Harry, it looks as if you might not be able to live with me for a while, at least until this whole thing blows over."

Harry looked downtrodden. "I know. I'll…I'll miss you, Sirius!"

Sirius smiled sadly, "Me too kid, me too." Sirius slapped Buckbeak and he lifted into the air, shrinking to a small black dot in the distance. "Oh, and by the way, tell that Ron kid to do something about his mold problem!" Sirius shouted back. Then he was gone.

Harry collapsed onto a stone bench dejectedly.

Hermione eyed him cautiously, as if he were about to explode. "Are you going to start crying again?"

Harry sighed. "I guess not."

"Yeah Potter, don't be a loser!" said a mysterious drawling voice.

"Can't help it," said Harry automatically. "I mean, uh, you're the loser, Malfoy!"

Draco stepped out of the shadows, "Look, I don't want any trouble, okay Potter? I just heard that Buckbeak was loose, and I was worried that I'd loose the other arm."

Hermione's face turned bright red, quite like another adorable little misfit we know and love, "You-take-that-back! Buckbeak is a beautiful, noble creature!"

Draco scowled, "It's a mangy freak of nature, and should be put down!" Draco's eyes took on a look of panic, "I mean, it snapped my arm off like it was nothing…IT HAUNTS MY DARKEST NIGHTMARES…along with my father's cane and a bad hair day." He shuddered.

Hermione twitched. "You'll not say that about Buckbeak." She drew back her fist and punched Draco.

He screamed and clutched his bloody nose. "What are you doing Granger? You…you broke my nose!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh please, I didn't even touch you. You could tell my fist was like four inches from your face the whole time!"

Harry laughed, "Yeah Malfoy, you're pathetic."

Draco looked confused, "But…but…but…she hit me! Buckbeak chewed off my arm! What won't anyone believe me?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and started running, "Forget him, we've got thirty seconds to get back in the infirmary before Dumbledore locks the doors. Let's move!"

"But…but couldn't we just use magic?" asked Harry haltingly, as he was dragged up three flights of stairs.

Hermione huffed, climbing towards the infirmary with determination in her eyes. "Of course not! Don't be stupid!"

* * *

They managed to arrive at the infirmary just as Dumbledore backed out. He turned to meet them. "Well?"

Hermione nodded, "Sirius is safe, and so is Buckbeak."

Dumbledore smiled, mounting his big boy bike again, "Excellent, excellent. Now, Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to give me the Time Turner back?"

Hermione suddenly cackled with maniacal laughter, "Never, you old fool! Mwahahaha! Don't you see, I love the power of messing with space-time as we know it. I DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS, AND I LIKE IT!"

Dumbledore blinked, "Eh? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." He chuckled, "I'm a little hard of hearing, you know."

Hermione's eyes darted shiftily, "I said, Look, a distraction!"

"Where! I'm going to get you this time!" He took off, wheeling lopsidedly down the corridor shouting "Yohooo!" in a singsong voice.

Harry frowned, "What was…?"

"Never mind, that's not important, we've got to get inside!" Hermione quickly pushed Harry through the door and closed it behind them. From his bed, Ron stared at them openmouthed.

"But…but…you were just over there?"

"No we weren't, you're just crazy," explained Harry.

Ron thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Oh, all right then."

Harry and Hermione managed to jump in their beds just as the infirmary door exploded open. Snape, his face red with rage ran through, followed by a nervous-looking Fudge, Macnair, and Dumbledore.

"POTTER DID IT, I KNOW HE DID! THE LITTLE BRAT IS GUILTY, I SAY. GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY!" Snape sprayed spit all over Harry, who blinked innocently at him. Hermione donned her Harry Spit Shield.

Fudge laughed deeply, "Oh, come now Severus, that's impossible. Madame Pomfrey assured us that they've been in the infirmary the whole time."

Snape's eye twitched convulsively, "YOU CAN SEE THE SMUG LITTLE LOOK ON HIS FACE. HE DID IT, POTTER DID! POTTER AND HIS LITTLE FRIENDS. THEY SET SIRIUS BLACK FREE!"

Dumbledore put a comforting hand on Snape's shoulder, "Now now Severus, _why_ would Harry want to set free the man who was _trying to kill him!_" Dumbledore gave Harry a huge wink. "Isn't that RIGHT Harry?" He winked several more times.

Fudge frowned. "Got something in your eye, Albus?"

Dumbledore winked again and gave Harry a thumbs up, "Eh, Harry? Nod nod, nudge nudge, wink wink!"

Harry looked confused, "Er…what?"

Fudge blinked, "Anyway, that'll be all Severus, you can leave us now."

Snape stalked off, twitching and screaming. "THE DARK LORD SEES ALL!"

Dumbledore smiled sadly, "Ah, poor eccentric Severus."

Fudge, however, looked concerned. "I don't know Albus, if I were you, I'd watch out for that man."

The room was suddenly filled with a loud clanging and a whirring siren.

Ron covered his ears, "What is that awful racket?"

Dumbledore pressed a button and the ringing ceased. "Ah yes. You see, we decided that we didn't really care much about the safety of anyone at this school, except our boy Harry, of course." Dumbledore ruffled Harry's hair while Harry smiled good naturedly in an Aw Shucks type of way. Ron smoldered. "So, we decided to remove the **People other than Harry Alarm **and install a cool, expensive, and totally useless **Foreshadow Alert **instead. Isn't it great!"

Fudge waved away Dumbledore's enthusiasm, "Marvelous. But Albus, in all seriousness, you should think about raising your level of security at the school. Have you considered dragons?"

The **Foreshadow Alert **clanged possibly even louder.

Dumbledore shrugged, "Oh, I don't know. Though Hagrid would certainly like that. Ah yes, I'm afraid something will have to be done about the security. After all, the dementors haven't worked out too well, have they?"

Fudge nodded, "Most assuredly, something will be done! As for attacking an innocent student, I just can't imagine what could be wrong with them! It was as if they were working for the Dark Lord or something…"

The **Foreshadow Alert **clanged incessantly, rising higher and higher in pitch until the tiny red tinted bulb exploded into a million pieces. A solitary string of plastic coated wires hung desolately from the wreckage in the ceiling.

The room was filled with silence.

Harry blinked. "It…broke."

Dumbledore sighed sadly, "And I was just getting so attached to it. Yes, all the obvious foreshadowing happening in this room must have been too much for its poor little electronic heart." Dumbledore collapsed onto his knees, raising his hands to the heavens. "Why must the good die young! It was barely a microchip when I got it in the mail. I thought we could never reconcile when it went through those awkward rebellious calculator years, but I'd really gotten to know it. It was like my own brother…which I apparently do have, but isn't really mentioned much…oh WHY!"

At this point, all people capable of movement quietly tiptoed out of the room, leaving Dumbledore to his soliloquy about the anguish of fleeting youth. That just left Ron, all alone with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned tear-filled eyes to Ron, "You know what I mean, right? Nod nod nudge nudge wink wink, eh, eh, right? Right?"

Dumbledore prodded his cast good-naturedly, and Ron fumed. "Stupid leg injury."

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione tiptoed out of the infirmary.

Hermione shrugged, "Well, I guess that just about wraps things up. Two innocent lives saved and everything returned to normal."

"Yeah, I guess so, but what about-ow!" A small furry missile collided with Harry's head.

"Duck and cover, duck and cover! DOWN DOWN DOWN!" Hermione yelled, as the **Harry Alarm **buzzed in the background and teachers dressed as commandos army crawled into the room. Helicopters whirred overhead and the hall was suddenly full of a lot of barbed wire.

Harry got up, massaging his head. "Oh, never mind. It's just an owl."

Professor McGonagall sighed, "False Alarm!" She shouted to the troops.

"Oh, come on!"

"You've got to be kiddin me!"

"When're we gonna see some action!"

They sulked away. Harry ripped open the package, and shoved away the excited little owl that was trying to cuddle. He read the letter aloud.

"It says: Harry, I'm sorry about the owl, it seems a little…excitable, and really just plain annoying. Do you think your friend, the annoying easily excitable one with the mold, would want him? Cause seriously, it's kind of getting on my nerves. It's been following me since Dublin, and I decided I'd send it to you, and it'd be your headache now. Smart, right? I know, I know, your Godfather's the best. But anyways, I only had enough room to enclose one thing, and while I could have given you crucial and emotionally satisfying information about your parents, or a Sneakoscope to make sure Ron doesn't adopt any more death eaters, I've enclosed your permission form to go to Hogsmeade. Don't know why…it's not actually that important, but I thought you might like it. Remember Harry, as an old friend likes to say, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Well…not the 'remember Harry' part, but you get the idea."

Harry sniffed, crying tears of joy, "I love my godfather!"

Hermione frowned, "But he's old, manky, and smells like an old boot."

Harry beamed, "But he's MY old boot!"

* * *

After reading Sirius' note, and delivering the annoying little twit of an owl to Ron, Harry went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room to visit Professor Lupin.

"Professor? Hey, I was…Professor, what are you doing?"

Lupin was packing books, robes, and bars of chocolate into a battered suitcase. "I've resigned. I'm leaving this morning."

"But why? You're the best Defense teacher we've ever had!"

Lupin sighed, "I know." He smiled, "Heck yeah, I'm the best thing that's ever hit this school! I'm the greatest teacher ever! Who are THEY to sack ME? I'm going to go back right now and give them a piece of my mind. A danger to our students well being indeed, ha!"

Harry frowned, "Wait, you were sacked?"

Lupin glared, "Yeah, so, you got a problem with that?"

"No no, I just can't believe it, that's all. Just because you're a werewolf, doesn't mean you aren't a good person…wolf…teacher…thingy."

Lupin patted Harry on the shoulder, "Harry, I know you mean well, but that statement was extremely hurtful, and if you don't mind, I like to finish packing in peace, watering my dirty laundry with anguished tears." Dramatic music suddenly started up again as a single dramatic tear fell dramatically down Lupin's dramatic face.

"Do they follow you everywhere?" asked Harry, pointed to the orchestra seated behind Lupin.

He shrugged, "Pretty much. Such is the sad life of a werewolf."

The conductor sprang into action. Violins quavered.

"Well, good bye Harry Potter. Until we meet again." Lupin disapparated.

Suddenly someone was beating on the door. Hermione's muffled voice permeated feet of stone and mortar. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU PEOPLE, YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE ON HOGWARTS GROUNDS!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Oh, whatever Hermione."

And so ends another year at Hogwarts…what could lie ahead for our reluctant hero? Dragons? Merepeople? A big Triangle Cup? Another evil plot? Losering? A…WHO PUT IN ANOTHER ALARM?

Cut to theme music—end.

* * *

High on a wind-ravaged hill, the old Victorian stood silent, waiting. Our focus zooms in through an upper story window to an old woman plodding along contentedly, dusting off old boxes and knickknacks, and watering a dusty old fichus plant.

Today was the fifth anniversary of her husband's death. She stopped dusting for a moment, then continued with new fervor. And she wasn't going to let it get in the way of normal life! What happened in this house had just happened, and that was that. Now he was gone, and there was nothing mysterious about it.

She slammed the feather duster on a dusty weathered table. "Come on Roberta, pull yourself together! It's not as if this day were different from any other. Just get back to work!" She slammed the duster again, sobbing. There was the tinkle of broken glass.

Surprised, Roberta stooped down and picked up a picture she had knocked off the table. It was her husband, young and tanned dark by the sun, posing on his first tractor.

She laughed in spite of herself. "Betty Lou." She said. He'd loved that thing, but he'd sold it. Sold it to buy her this very house.

She sighed. "Oh Joe, what are you doing to me?" She looked back down at his picture, to drink in another glance of his freckled cheeks and strong, gentle features, but gasped in horror.

The head in the picture was missing.

Roberta stumbled backwards, tripping over boxes in her frenzy to get to the attic stairs. "No, no, no! It's not real!"

A dark figure stood at the bottom of the stairs, highlighted by the light behind him, waiting for her.

"It can't be real!" She trembled, holding the shattered picture frame to her chest.

The stairs creaked as the figure came towards her.

"NO! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!" She sobbed, the figure drew closer. She stood cringing against a stack of boxes. "NO! NO!" Roberta stumbled backward, tripping over a box and landing on her fichus plant. She gasped, surprised for a moment, the thorns of the fichus stuck disconcertingly from her stomach. She was covered in cuts on her arms, hands, legs. On her face. She choked again, whispering the name.

"_Edmund._"

The scene swam oddly, the setting morphing slowly to that of a museum, dark and painted with weird angled shadows, thrown by the posed wax mannequins.

A single man walked through the rows of famous murderers and villains, captured and forever imprisoned in a wax likeness. He was the curator of an obscure wax museum in the bad part of Verona, Italy. He dusted off antique tables, and bent the wax finger of Jack the Ripper back into shape.

"Stupid kids," he muttered.

He straightened Molly the Axe Murderess' shawl, and came to a stop in front of the guillotine exhibit. A tall wax man was leaned against the guillotine, his hand curled around what looked like a live red flower. The dummy seemed to be missing his nose.

The curator sighed, "Oh, that's just wonderful! Now I have to made a _new _nose!"

He turned his attention away for a moment to grab a list of repairs off his cluttered desk. He felt a small push on his back. Astonished, he windmilled his arms through the air, falling down and down toward the guillotine.

The rope twisted, and the fat blade gleamed in the moonlight. There was a chop, and a thunk. The basket at the base of the guillotine wobbled for a moment, then settled. All was silent.

The scene shifted.

The dressing room of Bobo the Clown was bright and full of clutter. On a dilapidated old couch, Bobo pulled off his clown mask and large brown hat. He lit a rather battered cigar and propped his feet up on a cluttered endtable, accidentally knocking over a vase of fichus.

There was a pounding on the door.

Bobo glared and cursed under his breath.

"Bobo! Bobo! Will you sign my autograph book?" squealed the voice of a little girl outside the door.

"Me too!" shouted another. Then they all started shouting, about twenty of them.

Bobo sighed, and reached for his mask. He pitched his voice in that annoying, high pitched warble used by clowns everywhere that own a red rubber nose and are payed to say Super-de-Duper! "Uh, just a minute kiddies! Bobo's got to get ready!" His couldn't find the mask. Bobo riffled through papers and checked under the couch, treading lightly over the broken vase, although the flower seemed to be missing.

He plopped back down on the couch in horror. Someone'd stolen it. They'd stolen his identity, his career! He was a rising star in the field of clowning, they couldn't do this to him.

"Someone's stolen it…" he gasped, "someone STOLE MY FACE!"

Bobo, though now he was really just Marv Delbert without the magic the mask provided, answered the door. Twenty little kids' faces dropped.

"But…but you're not Bobo." She looked about ready to cry.

Marv panicked, "Uh, course I am kid! Whehew! I'm Bobo the Clown!"

The little girl glared, "No you're not, you're just a dirty old man."

"And you smell like emphysema!" shouted one boy with glasses too large for his head.

"WE WANT BOBO! WE WANT BOBO!"

Marv slammed the door. No! His fans, his career! His identity!

"NOOO!"

Then the kids started throwing fruit, and from there…it just got messy.

The scene brightened, then died away, another one in its place.

Dancers in masks and elaborate costumes whirled around the dance floor. Picture windows glinted gold in the candlelight, and the giant ballroom was filled with the sound of an orchestra playing waltzes. Everyone had a partner, except for two people standing against the wall, watching the merriment solemnly.

Personally, Stephanie didn't really like these masquerade ball things; the whole experience was definitely overacted. The lights were too bright, the music was too loud, and her friends had totally deserted her to dance with their dates. She squinted over to where Kimi and Lauren were prancing with their dudes. Traitors. Stephanie adjusted her plastic mask, already it was digging into her face. Alone, she sulked against the wall, the ruffles of her outrageous red ruffled dress creasing already. It's not as if she'd wanted to go anyways. Considering, she turned to the man on her left. He hadn't moved for the whole party.

"Well," she thought, "I need a date. He _definitely _needs a date. Why not ask him to go dance." She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, "Just do it. The worst thing he can do is say no. Well…he could be a crazy axe murderer who's going to kill the first person who talks to him." She frowned. "Yeah, okay, not exactly the positive side."

She took a deep breath. The words just spilled out. "Would…would you dance with me cause I'm getting really tired of standing here and I noticed you were standing and you probably think I'm a total idiot right now but would you just dance with me even if it's out of pity but if you don't want to I'll understand but would you just say yes?"

The man continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring her.

She groaned inwardly, "Oh, real smooth Steph, you totally creeped him out."

She turned back to him, "Look, I'm sorry about all that. I'm just a nervous talker, you see, and when I get nervous I talk really really fast about nothing in particular so if I'm talking too much you can just stop me…oh, there I go again, whew!" She laughed nervously. The stranger didn't seem impressed. In fact, he didn't move at all.

"Hehe," she tittered. "Yeah…"

The dude didn't so much as blink.

Stephanie glared. "No way he's going to treat me like that!" she thought. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but paused for a moment to get rid of her tacky party tiara. There was no way anyone was going to take her seriously with a hunk of green plastic proclaiming PRINCESS IN DISGUISE to the entire room sitting on her head, messing with her twenty dollar hairdo. Yeah, great party favors. She glared over at Kimi, who was swaying and laughing to the music. Oh, of course _she _looked good in hers!

Stephanie's nostrils flared. "Okay, listen pal, I don't know who you think you are, but there's no way I'm just going to let you stand there smirking at me behind a mask where I can't even see it. If you want to say something, then say something!"

The guy didn't so much as blink.

"What are you, deaf or something?"

"It's time for the unmasking!" The slightly drunk host slurred into the microphone, wobbling precariously. The embarrassed hostess ran onto the stage and supported him. "No no, I'm okay honey, really. Oh…ohkay now…grab your girl 'n take off her mask!" The mic whined with static. "Really Margie, I'm okay, I just had a…few…"

Stephanie stood hands on hips, tapping her foot. "Fine, you don't want to just look at me and say no like any normal person, then fine!"

The guy didn't move.

Stephanie felt her cheeks burning. Her vision swam with tears. "Well FINE!" She pushed him with all her might, and he immediately toppled to the floor with a cold thud, his mask falling off in the process. Stephanie screamed in horror.

All the skin on his face had been removed.

She screamed again.

The music screeched to a halt as everyone gathered around the corpse. A man in a white suit pushed his way through.

"Excuse me, excuse-_EXCUSE ME!_ Mind where you're putting that umbrella!" He parted the seas of multicolored costumes and knelt before the man. "Hmmm…"

Stephanie's breath kept getting stuck in her throat.

The doctor looked up, "He seems to be…dead."

Stephanie rolled her eyes, "Well duh!"

The crowd began to shout, and a lone man in a matador costume exited unnoticed in the frenzy. The only thing to suggest he had ever been there was a single long stemmed fichus, crimson red against the polished pearl of the floor.

The sounds began to fade and the colors blurred.

"EDMUND!" Lucy jolted awake, breathing heavily. She sighed and pushed her matted hair out of her face, struggling with the sheets that had managed to become wrapped around her legs. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, gathering her senses. The moon glinted pale though her half-drawn shades and washed her face of all color.

"I'll find you, Edmund…I'll find you."

* * *

End of Chapter…or is it?

No really, it is.

Thanks for all the reviews, we love them. Really. So send them. Really. And now ends Azkaban, next up is Goblet, who knows what kind of stuff can top all this? We'll find something.

_**Oddly**_


	27. The Boot King

WE ARE BACK! Sorry it's so short, but I wanted to get it started back up again, and I know all you readers must have been devastated without us, so I quickly pulled together my ideas and decided to type the first chapter of the fourth part of That Loser.

So keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times, and fasten your seat belt; it's going to be a wild ride.

That Loser

**Chapter 27: The Boot King**

"Well _excuse me_!" Lucy huffed, straightening as a man in a red sweater pushed past her.

She was at the doors of the City Hall, looking for more clues on the mysterious Edmund-haunted house.

It couldn't just be a ghost-abandoned building, it had to have been something before all that, a home to someone, and that was what Lucy was going out to look for, evidence of an earlier beginning, an explanation that might shed some light on all of the deaths.

She was lead back to the records, the frustrated secretary randomly pointing to some huge filling cabinets and declaring that she should search by herself.

The cabinets were old and decrepit, a layer of dust had to be cleared before Lucy could get anywhere near the files, and when she finally pulled open the sticky drawer of one of the many cabinets looming around her, she was dejected to find that nobody appeared to have believed in alphabetical order.

Several hours and several cabinets later, as Lucy sat on her knees on the cold cement floor, in the blinking feeble single-bulb lit room, thumbing threw her hundredth or so file, when she finally found what she was looking for; right behind: POTTER—GODRIC'S HOLLOW, SANE—665.9 PLANT BOULEVARD.

"Success!" Lucy grinned, taking the SANE file out with her paper-cut hands, wiping away the grime of dust and scanning through its contents—an eerie prickle of familiarity whispering against the back of her neck.

"_Never, never…never, Edmund…"_

It read simply the blueprints of the house and a record of its past owners, every single one of them strangely ending in a mysterious death…

The filing cabinet slowly began rocking on its four corners, oblivious to Lucy who was still reading the file…

"_Don't tell her...never…DON'T TELL HER."_

But that house's original owner, the one that had built the house; that was what Lucy was looking for—Jane Nancy Sane, she lived over fifty years ago…

The bulb was flickering more rapidly now, causing Lucy to look up in concern.

"_Never to know…never to know…but that Loser stole…never, Edmund, never!"_

Now the file in her hand was vibrating, the papers fluttering wildly against her grasp, she dropped it quickly and turned to leave—the bulb promptly burning out, covering her in darkness.

And she ran.

"_Edmund… no, no…never… never, never, NEVER!"_

Lucy slammed into the thick metal door that separated her from the main building of City Hall—she was trapped in one of its many cold back rooms.

"SOMEBODY! LET ME OUT!" she cried, pounding on the door with her fists. "PLEASE! SOMEBODY!" a jarring wind was whipping her hair, encircling her legs and arms and throat…

And the door clicked, and fell open…

With a mad cry, Lucy bolted into the next room, right into the chest of her rescuer. Sobbing she grabbed hold of his shirt, screwing up her eyes and pushing her face hard against him.

"Oh thank God…thank God…"

A curious sensation was dancing across her fingers, like the crawl of a bug or drip of a liquid; she slowly opened her eyes, gazing at her hands.

Blood.

She let him loose, stepping back and drawing her attention up to his face…

It wasn't there.

So she ran, she ran again, flying out the doors of City Hall as the faceless body crumbled to the floor; rushing back to safety, until she could once again call upon her nerves to continue her mission, searching for this Edmund, now with a clue, a clue called Jane N. Sane.

* * *

"EEEEERRRRRRREEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!" A lone tea kettle screech in the band solo of the night.

"WHA?! Wahzzat?" Frank Bryce was forcefully awakened by the mysterious kettle callings. Painfully he stumbled out of bed, reaching for his cane; he limped into the next room—the kitchen—to the source of the earsplitting screeches.

"Stupid thing!" He muttered angrily, switching the kettle to a different stove top, and then grumpily turning around back towards his bedroom.

The wind outside the house was rattling the small hut's shutters and a fine mist had settled on top of the grounds and refused to budge.

"_Edmuunnd…"_

The tree branches and fichus leaves pounded against the siding.

Frank slowly turned once again towards the kitchen; he had thought he had heard something…

And there, in the window he saw it, up at the main house, the mansion that had been empty for years—a light, there was a light in one of its windows.

He frowned, those bloody kids, always set to torment him. Because of those murders…but he was innocent, innocent of those mysterious deaths over fifty years ago.

Putting on his pink fluffy bunny slippers, Frank slowly limped across the dewy grounds and let himself into the old mansion; following the hissing whispers of voices coming from an upstairs room.

The stairs creaked underneath him, moaning ominously of what was too come, his cane softly tapping on the wooden steps, muffled by the layer of dust.

He approached the door, so concentrated on the voices that he completely failed to notice a snake slither past him…which was completely understandable, even if it was over ten feet long and the size of a tree trunk.

Frank leaned into the door, trying to calm his breathing as he listened in on the strangers…

"_Oops, I did it again! I messed with your heart, and got lost in the game. Oh baby, baby!"_

"Enough!" A cold voice snarled, making Frank shiver. "Wormtail, I told you that I no longer require a dinner theatre."

"B-but, milord! It took me _hours_ to get into this red leather suit—"

"_Silence!"_

Wormtail cringed, whining.

"Now, my faithful servant, let us discuss our next step, and then we can watch as the plan simply…unfolds…"

"Mi—milord—wouldn't it be simpler—with…out the boy?"

"…You know, I never thought of that…but no! Anyways, there would be no plot."

"Yes, yes, of course milord—but why not act during the Quidditch World Cup?"

Frank frowned, Quidditch? Wasn't that a line of women's lingerie? What would those two need with women's lingerie; he knew of only two people who talked of Quidditch like that, gay criminals or pansy spies.

"_Siiiihhhaaassseeennn…" _a strange noise was now coming from the inside of the room, it sounded like someone was choking—or—or—not possibly…talking to _snakes_…

"_Seeeessseeennneeee…"_

Cruel laughter.

"Wormtail—" the cold voice snickered. "It seems that we have some company, why don't you open the door and give the dear Muggle a proper greeting…"

Frank gasped; they knew he was outside the door. But before he could react, the door was suddenly thrown open.

A short and large balding man stood in the illuminating light that the fire issued, his rat-like nose twitched, like a mouse sniffing in fear.

"So, Muggle…was that all you heard?" The chilling drawling voice hissed again.

Abruptly filled with bravo, Frank pushed past the fat man in the doorway and entered the room. There was a blazing fire in the fireplace, the giant snake curled up on a rug in front of that. And behind that, facing the fire and away from Frank's eyes, three armchairs.

"No, that's not all! I heard about your plans…to use some boy, murder him!" Frank yelled at the middle chair.

There was no response.

"Well?" Frank continued his tone raising. "Get out of that chair and face me like a man!"

And finally, a sound could be heard, bone-chilling laughter. "Oh…but I haven't been a man for a very long time…"

Frank paused in mid-rant. "What? Really? So…like…merman, perhaps?"

The creepy atmosphere was interrupted with a snort. "No! Come and see for yourself."

So slowly, Frank advanced; Wormtail was sitting in the corner, being invisible, a talent he had. A trumpet and drum crescendo was blaring, Frank's hand outstretched…

The chair spun around, revealing…

A man in ear phones holding a keyboard.

"Uh…" The man said. "Pay no attention to me, I'm the sound producer." He cheerfully pressed a button. The chicken dance began playing.

"Other chair." The evil voice sounded again, slightly to the right.

Step. Reach. Swivel.

"Other right."

Step. Reach. Swivel.

"WHAT IS IT?" Frank gasped, jumping back, his cane clattering to the floor.

Lord Voldemort smirked. "Yes, I am more than a man; and even though I look like a bald baby squirrel, I am indeed the mightiest wizard of all time!"

"And now…" The Dark Lord continued. "I will have to kill you, which is a pity considering Wormtail is all I have for company, and you just can't play quite as good a game of Water Polo with two people as opposed to three…And that's a lovely cane by the way, my friend Lucius has one just like it…and…and…uh…what was I saying?"

The sound producer pressed a red button and a high pitched scream echoed through out the house.

"Oh yes…_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

And the green light gleamed, its evil flashing brilliance rippling the curtains and echoing through the eerie night.

And in Frank's small hut, not fifty feet away, a teapot hissed its lone whistling concluding the deathly song. But the maestro was just beginning…

* * *

"WATER POLO!" Harry Potter screamed, his eyes snapping to attention, awakening from a horrible dream.

"Harry! Harry! Harry are you alright?" A female voice sounded…along with the feeling of intense heat and pain…'what a peculiar sensation,' Harry thought mildly.

"Oh, hello Hermione." Harry sat up, his head on fire.

"Get up quick!" Hermione commanded, waving a candle around wildly, pointing to random things with it.

"Ron! Ron, you idiot! Wake up!" Hermione kicked him.

Ron slowly opened his eyes, then quickly jerked the covers up over his footie-plaid pajamas. "Hermione!" he gasped. "I'm indecent!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and backed out of Ron's small and very orange room. "I'll see you two downstairs, but hurry! We have it make it to the Portkey by six!"

* * *

It was a beautiful crispy morning, longing to be enjoyed by all. Small fluffy winged birds fluttered about the sky singing in sweet melodies…

"DIE BIRDY, DIE!" Fred cackled, winging a large rock into the air.

It was abnormally early, no one had taken showers, and it was muddy. And they were walking up a hill. And it was slippery. And mud minus friction didn't equal fun time.

"All—most—there—" Mr. Weasley panted, leading the straggling brigade to the Portkey site.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George and Mr. Weasley were up at that early hour, risking their health, because it was Quidditch season; in fact it was more than that, it was finals season, and the Weasley monarch had scored tickets to the famed Quidditch World Cup, an event no one in their right minds would miss. But that was okay, because no one in their right minds would attempt walking up a slippery slope at five in the morning either.

The group finally reached the top; Mr. Weasley with his hands on his knees, Fred and George collapsed on the ground, and Ron and Ginny leaning against each other for support.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.

"Come on you guys, we've only been walking for five minutes…" Hermione trailed off, the Weasley Household still in perfect view.

"Can't—breathe—" Ron gasped, holding his side; Ginny nodded mutely beside him, red in the face.

Harry and Hermione sighed; it was the fourth time they had to stop.

"Wizard don't really do much physical things, do they?" Harry observed.

"Look—look…for the…Portkey…" Arthur waved vaguely around the hill top, his head still bowed in lack of breath.

"Well, what does it look like?"

"An—an—(cough)—insignificant muggle object—" Mr. Weasley wheezed.

"I'll—help…" Ron coughed, and straightened, leaving Ginny to collapse onto the ground beside the twins.

"What—a—a brave little—solider." George cried, gasping for air.

Hermione rolled her eyes, as Ron held up a defiant fist.

"Hey look!" Harry squinted and pointed to the other side of the hill. "There it is, an old boot."

The trio waded through the tall wild grasses towards the object, when it suddenly shivered, and veered to the left.

Ron frowned. "What the—?" He reached out again.

"MYYYY BBOOOOOT!" A wild man in tattered clothes popped out of the tangle of weeds, clutching the shoe to his chest, like one would a pet dog.

"Hey!" Ron yelled. "That manky old boot is mine, so give it back you old hobo!"

The hobo gasped, scuttling quickly away from the Weasley child. "What did I just here you call my _precious?" _

"That's our Portkey!" Ron howled, advancing.

"Portkey? Precious is much too good for that use…boot is lunch…its goooood."

"GIMME THE BOOT!"

But the hobo was rattling on now, not listening to Ron. "Mud caked boot is good too, and slimy boot, and tarnished boot, and molding boot, and boot laces, and boot tongues, and boot heels, and boot soles, and the little plastic bit on the end of laces that no one seems to know the name of, its an acquired taste; but I's enjoying it with o' little bit o' molasses…"

The ground suddenly shook and split open around Harry's feet, roots from the middle of the earth crawling from inside the core, branching out; then a shape rose into the air, sporting leaves and bark. A giant tree had suddenly and mysteriously grown.

"Oh look! The Diggory's are here!" Mr. Weasley called out.

An older boy from Hufflepuff in Tarzan apparel jumped down from the enormous tree. "Harry." He nodded briefly, monkeys screeching above in the leaves.

"Excellent, Arthur! Excellent!" Who could only be Mr. Diggory, clapped his hands together. "Looks like every one is here, do you have the Portkey?"

"Almost."

Ron and the hobo were rolling around on the ground in a violent struggle.

"MYY BOOOTTT!"

"ITS MINE! IT'S MY BBOOOOOOOOooooooooOOOOOOOT!!!"

The hobo gasped, abruptly dropping the boot and bending in a bow. "You speakth the holy language of the BOOT. Oh, precious Boot King, I live to serve…"

"Yeah, he's got it."

"B-boot King?" Ron gasped wildly. "Me? A king? Of—of course! I always knew I was special! OY! HEAR THAT, HARRY 'I'M SO SPECIAL' POTTER? I AM THE BOOT KING!"

Harry didn't answer; he was busy trying to defend himself from Mr. Diggory's comments.

"—so as Cedric told me, he beat you to the chase, caught the Snitch first."

"Yeah, but I fell—"

"Amazing isn't it? The Famous Harry Potter _losing_ to Cedric? Well, my boy is a star, after all, amazing that you could follow him for so long!"

"I fell off—"

"I mean, how _horrible_ you must have felt, losing so badly, but the best will win in the end, eh, Cedric?"

"I FELL OFF MY BROOM."

"One boy falls, and the other stays on, its no genius who the better flyer is—"

"A dementor was trying to suck out my soul."

"Just, wow. Harry, you have to admit, Cedric whooped your ass—"

"Cedric hasn't a soul."

"—BOOT KING!"

"SHUT UP RON. NOBODY CARES." Fred screamed.

Harry glanced up at him. "Thanks Fred."

"No problem mate."

Arthur Weasley laughed weakly. "Ahaha, look at the time, we should probably grab the boot about now…"

George glared over at the Hufflepuff boy. "Yeah, come on ape-man."

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	28. A Pigeon Shaped Hole

It's good to be back! I missed you guys. Hugs! (Crushes readers in giant bear hug) Okay, okay. Here's the chapter, as promised.

That Loser

**Chapter 28: A Pigeon-Shaped Hole**

"Do…do I really have to touch that?" Hermione daintily sniffed the old boot, which steamed slightly under the midday sun. "Okay, that thing's just unsanitary."

"MAY THE BOOT KING PUNISH YE WITH THE FOOT ODOR OF MANY BOOTS, AS IS BEFITTING OF THE UNRIGHETOUS!" screamed the hobo's voice from the forest.

Ron grinned, "Yeah Hermione, you better take the boot or I'll punish you with the—ow!" Ron massaged his cheek, still stinging from Hermione's slap.

She glared, "Fine, I'll touch it, but if you try anything with foot odor, so help me I'll…"

Bringing up the rear of the pathetic little expedition was Harry and Mr. Diggory, who was still bragging about Cedric.

"You know, Cedric is not only superior to you in every way…he's prettier too! He totally pulls off that Tarzan look. Andat least _he _doesn't have a hideous scar that looks like a boot. I mean, what would happen if we all ran around with scars shaped like footwear, eh? That's right! Shaped like a boot, that is."

"It's President Lincoln!" Harry blinked. "Uh…I mean, it's a lightning bolt. And I got it when the Dark Lord tried to kill me."

Mr. Diggory chuckled, "Well, of course my Cedric knows not to get involved with Dark Lords. Horribly temperamental people, you know."

Cedric blushed good-naturedly, peering down from the branches of a large tree. "Come on dad, cut it out."

Harry frowned, "Where'd that tree come from?"

"—I once knew a Dark Lord, Otto the Mutilator, but asked us to refer to him as Where's Waldo. Mad as a hatter, that one, went a little funny at the end…" Mr. Diggory snorted.

"Um, dad?"

"…That business with the teacups—"

"Dad, we're here."

Mr. Diggory snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, splendid! And he can see too, what a son!" He reached into the tree and patted Cedric on the shoulder.

Arthur Weasley rounded up the group around the boot. "Now then, as I see that we've got some first-time Portkey travelers, I'll explain the procedure. You simply take a hold of the boot and don't let go until I tell you. Got it?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron blinked at him.

"Excellent! Then hold on everyone."

Cedric nodded to Arthur. "On three. One…two…"

"And he can count too! What a—"

"THREE!" shouted Harry, and they all grabbed the boot and disappeared into a swirling whirlwind.

The hill was suddenly silent with the absence of the chatter of the two families. The hobo cautiously stepped out of the forest, directly to where the boot had been. He sifted around through the mud with his fingers, desperately searching, searching…

"Aha!"

He lifted a shoelace free from the mud and wandered off muttering with glee.

"And a little o' bit o' molasses…"

* * *

Harry managed to pry his eyes open against the gusts of wind pulling at his skin. He clung with a death grip to the boot, watching the green scenery below roll by with increasing nausea.

"All right everybody, let go!" screamed Arthur above the roar of the wind.

Harry shrugged, "Oh well, I'll probably die in three years anyway." He let go, followed by a screaming Hermione, and Ron who was still basking in the somewhat moldy glow of Boot Monarchy.

The three friends landed in a dramatic heap on the hill below with the satisfying crack of broken ribs. Meanwhile, Arthur, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric wafted down slowly.

"Ha! I bet that cleared your sinuses," said Arthur jokingly.

Ron nodded slowly. "Yes, yes it did. And now, if you'll excuse me, I must clear my pants."

"Ha! I did I forget to tell you how to land, didn't I?" Arthur giggled, "Oops, I mean, wow! I may be poor and slightly ridiculous, but this is a low even for me!"

In a piercing retort, Harry spit out a clump of grass.

"Right then, let's get down to the camping grounds. The game doesn't start until tomorrow, so that'll give us plenty of time to settle in."

The group trekked down a hill and into a crowded camp full of bustling witches and wizards. They passed tents decked out in green and shamrocks screaming SUPPORT THE IRISH and other boasting the red and black flag of the Bulgarians. Various people were running around crazily setting off fireworks and screaming "MAGIC! MAGIC! MAGIC!"

Harry frowned, pointing them out to Mr. Weasley, "Why are they doing that?"

Arthur explained. "It's a reverse psychology, a Muggle concept. You let the Muggles know exactly what you're doing so they _don't _come and discover wizard kind."

Harry frowned, "But that doesn't make any sense."

Arthur slapped his shoulder. "Exactly!"

Hermione massaged a headache. "How long are they going to keep that up?"

Arthur stopped a short old man walking past.

"Excuse me sir, but how long have they been running around like that?"

The old man shrugged, "A couple hours or so, I guess. Heard 'em from my house I did, and since I'm off work tomorrow, I'm gonna join in!" He waved around the tree branch, giggling like a schoolgirl. "WHHHEEE! I feel sixty again! MAGIC! UNICORNS! TAX DEDUCTIONS! A WELL POACHED EGG!"

Curious Muggles started to file out of the forest. One tired looking housewife in curlers seemed to brighten up. "T…TUPPERWARE THAT CAN GO IN THE DISHWASHER WITHOUT THOSE LITTLE STREAKY MARKS!"

A man with a beer belly holding a newspaper jumped up and down. "A HOME FACIAL THAT REALLY LIFTS THOSE DEEP-SET WRINKLES!"

While this revelation of optimism hit the sparse population of rural England, the Diggory's parted company with the Weasley's and went to explore the grounds. Arthur led Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley brood to a giant tent larger than any other across the campgrounds.

"Well kids, here's your home for the next few days! It was a bit of a splurge, but I figured it was worth it. It is the Word Cup after all!" said Arthur proudly.

Harry stared at the tent, openmouthed. It larger than most houses he'd seen, with green Irish banners flying from torrents atop the tent. It was decked out in gold and green and seemed to almost twinkle in the sun. It was the biggest place Harry had ever stayed in. He sighed, "I love magic."

Arthur shooed them inside, "Well, go on in!"

Harry pushed eagerly through the tent flaps, feeling silk slide across his palms. Harry opened his eyes, ready for beautiful accommodations fit for a king…not a Boot King mind you, but a real one. What he saw was slightly disappointing.

Inside, the tent was a one-room dump, surprisingly smaller on the inside than it looked from the outside. A rickety kitchen table missing a leg was closest to the door, and next to it was a single dripping sink. Lumpy mattresses were sprawled across the dirt floor, and a cardboard box in the corner gave off the sewer-smell of a makeshift bathroom.

Mr. Weasley smiled. "All the comforts of home."

Ron gasped, "What a posh place, dad. Hey look, it's even got running water!" He turned a rusty handle, which produced only a mildly annoying squeaking sound. "Oh…never mind."

Arthur patted his son on the shoulder, or at least tried to, since with everyone inside the room, it was a little crowded. Harry was mashed up against Fred, who was tryng to set off fireworks through the roof, and Ginny's elbow was digging into his side. Everyone was shifting uncomfortably, trying not to be the one stuck next to the cardboard box. Hermione lost the struggle, and stared at the box with a scientific horror of what sorts of bacteria could be growing in its dubiously shadowed corners. "That's the spirit!" said Arthur, trying to pump his fist good-naturedly, but hit Ron in the eye instead. "I know it's not as big as it looks on the outside, but that's the thing about magic I guess, it's never what it seems to be."

An excited Muggle ran in front of the tent entrance, continuing the battle cry. "A WELL POACHED EGG!"

Arthur shook his head, "See, that's what I mean. Even magic can't make a well-poached egg! It's too runny, or too blackened. I mean eggs are just like cockroaches, they're like…magic or something."

Arthur squinted in thought, while the Fred launched a final firecracker, and the whole tent collapsed around them.

Harry sighed. "I hate magic…I really do."

Ron smiled, "BOOT KING!"

* * *

Once they had sent the tent back up, Mr. Weasley delegated chores. Harry was supposed to get the water…and everyone else would wait around doing nothing. Harry stomped through the campground carrying a dented water bucket and mumbling discontentedly. Oh it was typical really; make the weird loser boy with the disfigured forehead get the water. Typical.

Harry waved to people from school as he passed, making the uphill hike to the water spigot. He sighed. If only there were something that could make water appear out of thin air. If only he knew how to make it happen, or if only there were someone smart who would know something like that staying with them. It really was a pity there wasn't something like that. Harry waited patiently as the slightly muddy water splashed into his bucket. He turned off the water and trudged back down the hill.

It was then that he saw her, her long black hair flowing in the wind, her sparkling Asian eyes dancing. The beautiful goddess was walking with a group of normal boring girls and laughing musically. She looked beautiful in a giant red and black hat screaming KILL THE IRISH, so peaceful, so kind. She suddenly stopped and smiled at him.

"Oh, hello Harry, had a nice summer?" said the goddess named Cho Chang.

Harry sputtered for a moment and took a small step forward, tripping on a small rock and landing in his own bucket. "Uh…turkey?"

Cho shrugged, confused. "Oh…all right then. See you Harry."

"Turkey!" Harry blinked as Cho faded behind a tent. He slapped himself in the forehead. "Turkey?! What's wrong with me!"

A chorus of voices sounded from all over the campsite.

"Knobby knees—"

"Boot scar—"

"Weird hairstyle—"

"Pathetic loser—"

"No one asked you!" He screamed, rammed the bucket over his head, and ran back to the Weasley's tent, leaving muddy footprints all the way.

* * *

Hermione raised an eyebrow as Harry came in the tent, dripping and wearing a bucket as a hat. "So you got the water, then?"

Harry's voice echoed from inside the bucket. "Don't look at me! Don't look at my _shame_!"

"Looks like the water got him. Aha ah ha ha!" Ron shouted in laughter, then stopped when no one joined in. "Um…he's mental?"

Hermione patted Harry's soggy shoulder sympathetically while Ron searched his limited vocabulary for a joke that's actually funny. "What happened?"

Harry sniffled. "Well…I saw Cho Chang while I was out getting water, and it was like I was seeing her for the first time. I mean, I know I don't really hang around with girls much—"

Hermione cleared her throat. "And what am I, a duck?"

Harry smiled. "No silly, that's a duck." He pointed to the cardboard box, where a small mottled-gray duck was waddling happily in the…well…

She frowned. "How'd that get in here?"

"Well," Ron laughed nervously, "you know I was missing Scabbers and all, so I thought that maybe a duck would fill the rat-shaped hole in my heart."

"So…you chose a duck?"

Harry still looked confused. "A duck in a rat shaped hole…?"

Ron grabbed the filthy duck and held it protectively to his chest. "Well like they say, A Duck Is A Man's Best Friend."

Hermione blinked, "Ron, they don't say that."

"Well…well I do! You're just jealous!" Ron tried to run into his bedroom dramatically and slam the door, but since his bedroom happened to be two feet away, and have no door, the exit was much less effective.

Hermione turned back to Harry. "So what were you saying?"

He shrugged, suddenly smiling through his dripping bangs. "I dunno. You know, I feel much better about myself now. But that duck thing…how would a duck fit into a rat-shaped hole? Wouldn't a duck fit into a duck-shaped hole? Or maybe a pigeon-shaped hole…would a duck fit into a pigeon-shaped hole?"

"Uh…you just hold onto that feeling." She patted his shoulder, frowning at his dripping enthusiasm. "Hold onto that."

Arthur stepped into the tent, smiling broadly. "All right everyone, it's time to head down to the stadium! Fred, George put that down, you can harass the Diggory's cat later. Ginny, Hermione, and Harry, get your shoes on; we've got to go. We're going to walk up there with a friend of mine, Ludo Bagman. And Ron, let go of the duck and _let's go_!"

* * *

"Harry Potter? _The _Harry Potter? I bet you're joking!" Ludo Bagman punched Harry's shoulder good-naturedly.

Harry rolled his eyes, reciting the same thing he did in this line of questioning. "Yes, I'm really Harry Potter. No, you may not look at my scar or gawk at me like I'm a deranged monkey holding a stick of dynamite. And no, I will not sign whatever scrap of paper you push at me. No, I'm not rude really, just Harry Potter, Boy Loser."

Ludo grinned boyishly, "I bet you're not."

"So then Ludo," said Arthur, directing the conversation away from Harry, "you were just telling us…extensively…about your Quidditch career?"

"And yes, now that you ask," he laughed deeply, "I was a Beater on the famous Quidditch team—"

George protested. "But we didn't—"

"You know, anything for the fans!" Ludo Bagman wiped a tear of mirth out of the corner of his eye with a thick finger. "Ah yes, but now I work for the ministry. Terribly important job you know. I've got to make sure the games are organized and the Muggles are taken care of and all."

"Fat lot of good he did," mumbled Fred to George. Harry and Ron snickered. "Bet even Ron's duck could do better."

Ludo perked up, "Did someone say bet? I'll put in twenty!"

Fred shrugged, "I was just kidding."

Ludo's eyes narrowed, "I'll bet you were."

Fred started panic, "Really, I was only joking!"

"I'll bet you weren't."

"You're on!" Fred smiled. "I win. I was joking, pay up."

Ludo snapped, "Aha! You're a tricky one Larry!"

"Fred."

"Whatever. Ah…let me get back to you with that money. Here's an IOU. Ten was it?"

Fred smiled carnivorously. "It was twenty."

"Twenty right! Right…so then, Arthur, how much can I count you in for?"

Arthur, who had been hanging back in the casual anonymity of a minor character, blinked. "Count me in for what?"

Ludo laughed raucously, "Why the bet of course! The bet! How much do you want to bet on your favorite team? I've got a tidy little pool going, and I'd be glad if you'd join in."

Arthur's smile faltered. "Oh, well, I suppose you could put me down for one galleon on the Irish."

"Oh, come now Arthur, I know you're cheap but…one galleon?"

All three Weasley boys turned bright red and looked as if they'd like to strangle Ludo. However, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were totally fine with the situation, so that was all right.

Arthur blushed.

Ludo sighed, "Well fine then, one galleon it is on the Emerald Isle. Well, thank you all. Arthur, I'd better go and officiate or whatever it is I do. I'd bet my liver this is going to be an exciting game!"

"You're on!" said Fred.

Ludo nodded, "Loser loses his liver, deal. Well good bye all!"

Harry hugged his stomach protectively. "No one's getting my liver!"

* * *

"Wow Dad, how high are we?" Ron shouted over the roar of the crowd. They were in the stadium, climbing the endless flights of stairs to their nosebleed section seats.

"Well, let's put it this way, if it rains you'll be the first to know," said a familiar drawling voice.

Arthur sighed, "Oh, hello Lucius."

Draco, standing proudly beside his father, smirked. "_We're _sitting in the Ministry Box, by personal invitation of the minister himself!"

Lucius suddenly paled and began beating Draco over the head with his silver-knobbed cane.

"How many—times have I—told you—NOT to—boast!"

Arthur sidled out of the awkward situation, and everyone else followed suit. They hurried up the stairs and into their seats high above the action of ant-like officials on the green Quidditch field below.

The Bulgarian side of the stadium suddenly held up signs with the picture of a flying Quidditch player and the word MURK.

They chanted in unison. "MURK! MURK! MURK! MURK!"

A lone voice called out across the stadium. "'Ere now, that's not right. Flip it!"

The sign flipped.

"KRUM! KRUM! KRUM! KRUM!"

Ron cackled. "Not the brightest bunch, the Bulgarians. But that Viktor Krum, he's one of the best Seekers ever!"

Harry held up a pair of omniculars that he'd purchased earlier. Something large and green skimming across the field. "Ron, what's that?" 

Ron squinted, "Oh that? That'll be the Irish's mascot."

Harry frowned in thought. "Hmm…now what would the Irish use as a mascot? A duck possibly?"

"Works for me," said Ron, petting his duck.

"Maybe a wildebeest—wait, Ron, it said no pets allowed. How'd you get him in?"

Ron's eyes darted shiftily, "I know a guy who knows a guy who's got something on the security guard."

Hermione suddenly jumped up. "Look, here comes the Irish!"

A group of green-clad Quidditch players soared across the field in a V-formation, and behind them danced a giant leprechaun.

Ron snorted, "Looks a bit like Fudge, eh Harry?"

At first Harry was amazed by the spectacle of dazzling green as the Fudge look-alike jigged down the field. But in five seconds he and the rest of the audience was ducking for cover as a hail of heavy gold coins pounded down from above, pock-marking the cement floors. Harry slid under his seat at the last moment, huddling in fetal position beside Ron and Hermione.

"You know, this is the first time I've been afraid of money. Money, why have you betrayed me?!" Ron screamed as the stream of coins pinged to a halt.

"What next?!" He panted. "Medieval torture devi…ces. Whoa." Ron and every other conscious male, and some unconscious ones, felt their attention drawn to the Bulgarian mascots floating down the field.

"They're…" Ron drooled, "…so beautiful."

Hermione snorted. "Veela. They think they're so pretty, and smart, and alluring, and…oh who am I kidding? Ron, I love you!"

Ron didn't even blink. "Yeah, uh huh, I agree, wear the brown one."

"But—"

"Yes, it is lovely out. Now Hermione, stop bugging me with trivial questions, I want to impress them!" Ron stared.

Harry, who was too thick to be snared by the Veela's charm, was holding up the Omniculars, replaying 'Hermione gets denied'.

He elbowed her, excited. "Hey look Hermione, this is the part where he ignores you…and there it is again! Isn't this Omnicular thingy cool?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Do you know where you can put that Omnicular, Harry?"

He beamed, "In the customized carrying case!"

While Hermione explained to Harry about the carrying case she had in mind, every male in the stadium had the same idea of impressing the Veela that Ron did. Shouts rang out across the stadium.

"I'M A FAMOUS AUROR!"

"I'M THE MINISTER OF MAGIC!"

"I'M RICH AND I'M SITTING IN THE MINISTER'S BOX UNLIKE POTTER AND WEAS—OW FATHER!"

"HOW MANY—TIMES DRACO? HOW—MANY—TIMES?!"

Ron joined the shouts, "I…I'M HARRY POTTER!"

Harry, confused, finally looked away from the omniculars and saw the Veela. "Oh wow, I suddenly want to impress them! I'M NOT A LOSER…AND…AND I'LL PROVE IT TOO! BONZAI!" Harry attempted to jump off of the balcony, but was pulled back just in time by Hermione and Ginny.

"You idiot!" shouted Ginny.

"Aha! But at least I'm not a loser!" Harry smiled proudly.

"I'M SECRETLY A VERY SENSITIVE, CARING INDIVIDUAL! I MEAN, UH, GOOD AFTERNOON EVERYONE; I'M CORNELIUS FUDGE, MINISTER OF MAGIC, AND WELCOME TO THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP! UM…LET THE GAME BEGIN!"

Hermione and Ron stared at the Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum, with little lacy hearts fluttering around them.

They both sighed and said simultaneously, "Isn't he gorgeous?"

Hermione blinked in surprise and raised an eyebrow at Ron.

Ron blushed. "I mean, uh, he's a great player."

"Right. Sure you did."

The Quidditch players spread across the field, flying faster than any Harry had ever seen. The game moved so fast he had to replay some of the more intricate plays on the Omniculars, and it was only a few minutes into the game.

The announcer, however, seemed to have no problem following the action. "Oh, and another nasty spill for the Irish Seeker. It seems that he was forced off his broom by rival Seeker, Viktor Krum. And, by Jove, he's done it again! The Irish Seeker has tripped over his own broom and fallen once more. Oh, he's back in the air now, and the Quaffle's with the Bulgarians again. Ireland's Seeker moves in to block the goals for their Keeper, who's out of the game because of an injury due to falling, but oh! He's fallen again! Bulgaria takes an early lead."

Harry replayed the Irish Seeker nose-diving into the dirt. "Hey look, it's got a slow motion feature too!" Harry zoomed in and watched in slow motion as the Seeker's nose broke the dirt, then a tooth came flying loose, and his mouth filled with mud. "Wicked."

Ten minutes later…

"Well, that's all folks. Due to injuries involved with some of the worst consecutive falls seen in Quidditch history, the entire Irish Quidditch team is unconscious and being rushed to St. Mungo's. By the book, their alternates on the bench would have been able to take the injured player's places, but it seems that they all fell and broke something on the way to the field. So the World Cup goes to the Bulgarians by default. Bulgaria wins!"

The Irish fans were so embarrassed that they got out of the area as quickly as possible, while the Bulgarians celebrated not their victory, but the fact that they weren't as pathetic as the Irish team.

On their way out, Fred, emerged from the shame of his favorite team's pathetic loss. "Dad, have you seen Ludo Bagman?"

Arthur frowned, "Well yes, I saw him leaving in a hurry as soon as they announced the winner. Why?"

"Because he owes me twenty galleons and a liver."

* * *

Later, back in the Weasley tent, Ron ranted about Viktor Krum.

"I mean, did you _see _Viktor Krum? He's not just a Quidditch player, he's an artist."

Fred elbowed George.

"Viktor I love you!"

"Truly I do!"

Harry laughed and joined in with everyone else on the twin's mocking song. "When we're apart my heart beats only for you!"

Ron blushed fiercely. "Oh yeah, real cute guys. What'd you do, have choir practice?"

Harry's eyes darted shiftily, "Maybe. I mean no! No! We just all started singing this song that we all know the words to at the same time in three-part harmony. Happens all the time."

Ginny quickly stuffed a choir robe behind her back and nodded hastily.

Ron looked at him doubtfully. "Right."

The explosions of fireworks outside increased in intensity.

George smirked, "Looks like the Bulgarians are getting their pride on." Screams and shouts resounded outside.

Hermione peeked outside. "Uh no, those would be screams of pain and terror."

Ron sighed, "Well, just tell them to keep it down, okay? I'm in the middle of daydreaming about my Viktor!"

Arthur rushed to the tent flap, his eyes widening. "No, I think this is serious. All right everyone, we've got to get out right now! Go!"

Harry, Ron, and the Weasley's stumbled out of the tent and into the mêlée of frantic people running from a group of dark figures with tall pointy hoods.

"What's the KKK doing here?" asked Ron quizzically.

"No Ron, I think those are Death Eaters," said Hermione.

Ron laughed out loud. "Death Eaters? Death _Eaters_? What kind of a name is that! They eat death? You can't eat death. They should be the Cake Eaters, or the Death…death people, or whatever."

"The Death Death-People? Oh yeah Ron, that's brilliant. So much better than Death Eaters. Nice job." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Now now Ron, Death Eaters are not a joking matter. The Death Eaters are He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's servants. We thought they'd all disappeared long ago." Arthur muttered darkly, herding their small group towards the closest exit.

Harry frowned, "What's that they're chanting then?"

Hermione squinted. "Hmm…sounds like German. I think I can translate."

"Don't Hermione! It's probably something dreadful!" Ron shuddered.

Hermione moved her lips along with the chant, then stopped in surprise. "Um…"

"What? What're they saying?"

Hermione tried to keep a straight face. "They're saying, and I quote: "I tippy tippy toe through my garden, where all the pretty flowers dwell. And when I tippy tippy toe tippy toe toe I feel swell."

Harry snorted. "Well that's intimidating."

The Death Eaters suddenly changed direction, coming straight toward them. Harry felt himself being pulled away by the crush of panicked people.

"Harry!" screamed Hermione.

Harry tried to call back, but was knocked down. Frustrated, he tried to get back up when a foot came flying towards his face. He flew backward,

"Hey! Watch—"Above him someone was shouting.

"Hey, yeah! Kick him! Kick him again before he gets up!" A flurry of excited tramplers stomped on Harry. "It's not as though he's someone famous we all blatantly stare at!"

"That was exciting! It's my first real experience with mob rule."

The mob calmed a bit.

A lone voice called out. "What now?"

The leader of the kicking chants seemed at a loss. "Um…we kick him some more!"

Harry slipped into the black fog of unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry woke with a start. He was alone on a deserted battlefield. The ground was littered with blackened debris and still smoldering DOWN WITH THE IRISH posters wafted on the ash-thickened breeze. This wasn't a battlefield, it was a Quidditch campground!

Suddenly, a lone man stepped out from behind the debris and raised his wand. Green light shot out of the end and lit the sky with a horrible emblem. A skull hung in the sky smiling obscenely, a snake protruding from the mouth in twisted coils.

"This is definitely someone I don't want to find me," thought Harry. He tried to sink down lower into the rubble.

"HARRY? HARRY WHERE ARE YOU!?"

Harry stiffened. The man who'd cast the spell turned to the sound of the shouts.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, THE BOY WHO CAUSED THE FALL OF THE DARK LORD WHO IS AT THIS MOMENT ALL ALONE AND DEFENSLESS? WHERE ARE YOU? HARRY?"

Despite the fact that the man was two feet away from Harry, he suddenly decided to run away from two fourth year students so stupid that they would give away the position of a known enemy of Voldemort rather than kill the enemy that was close enough to spit on. Lucky break, that.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Hermione and Ron came into view.

"Harry! Harry are you all right?"

Harry nodded, brushing ash off of his jeans. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on here, but things didn't fit. It was like the pigeon-shaped hole, and all he had to fit in it was a duck right now, but with any luck he would soon be able to uncover the mystery of the skull in the sky. All he had to do was wait for a pigeon.

* * *

_**Oddly**_


	29. Transylvanian Beauties

SUMMER IS HERE! Hopefully Oddly and I will be getting these chapters up faster. Not counting this one, I know Oddly will yell at me for taking so long…(blushes). BUT YOU ALL LOVE ME, RIGHT?

That Loser

**Chapter 29: Transylvanian Beauties **

**POP! POP! POPPOPPOPPOPPOP!**

Harry spun around, he, Ron, and Hermione were surrounded.

"FIRE!"

"SHUT UP CROUCH YOU KNOW WE HAVE TO READ THEM THEIR RIGHTS!"

"WHAT? READ THEM THEIR RIGHTS? WHAT KIND OF PRISSY PANSY ACT IS THAT? FIRE!!"

"Be reasonable, Crouch. What if they're just kids?"

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT."

"Then send out the attack dogs. You have to be firm with those whippersnappers!"

There was some snorted laughter from one of the men on the right. "Yeah, like that worked _so well _with your kid…"

"ANYTHING YOU SAY OR DO WILL BE BENT IN ANYWAY BENEFICIAL TO YOUR PROSECUTORS."

"What did you just say, Amos!" Crouch barked, lowering his wand and turning towards him.

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO AN ATTORNEY. IF YOU CAN NOT AFFORD ONE, RITA SKEETER WITH WRITE AN EMBARASSING ARTICULE ABOUT YOU."

"I'm just saying, look at my boy, compared to yours, or even say, Harry Potter. It's no competition really…Uhh…" Amos laughed weakly. "Fire?"

"YEAH! FIRE!"

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" Some one chanted loudly beside Amos.

"Johnson, calm down. We'll all get our chance. _Psst! Did anyone remember to give Johnson his dried-frog pills?_"

Johnson giggled hysterically, his right eye twitching. "Fire…fire…fire…"

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO—"

"Are you quite finished?!" Crouch growled at the man reading aloud their rights.

"Yeah…I was making it all up anyways…"

Crouch nodded curtly. "Well, if we can continue…FIRE!"

"FIRE!" the group all agreed, pointing their wands towards their prisoners.

"Hey, where'd they go?"

…

"Run faster Harry! You bloody loser!"

"Stop yelling at me! I have feelings, you know?"

Ron paused, blushing. "Oh, mate. Uh…sorry…wanna mango?"

"Actually…yes. Where'd you get it?"

"Well, it's really for Robert…Now that I mention it…where is Robert? Robert? ROBERT? ROBERT! WHERE DID YOU GO? NOOOOO!!!"

Hermione slowly leaned over towards Harry. "Who's Robert?" she whispered.

"Eh." Harry shrugged, chomping on the mango. "Mmmm…stringy."

"NO ROBERT! NOOO!!! NOW WHO WILL FILL THE RAT-SHAPED VOID OF MY LIFE!?"

"Ronald, I think you're overreacting. It was just a duck—"

"YOU NEVER LIKED ROBERT! YOU HAD IT IN FOR HIM! DUCK-HATER!"

"Oh! Now, really…"

"IT WAS JUST TOO MUCH FOR YOU, HERMIONE, WASN'T IT? TO SEE ME HAPPY? YOU HATED SCABBERS TOO!"

"He was a fat, evil, balding man!"

"AHA! SEE? JUST COULDN'T STOP YOURSELF FROM INSULTING HIM!"

"HE WAS GOING TO KILL HARRY!"

"HARRY, HARRY, HARRY! THAT'S ALL YOU EVER THINK ABOUT!"

"You could get an owl." Harry helpfully pointed out.

"BECAUSE HARRY'S JUST SO _GREAT_—what?"

"Get an owl." Harry smiled, his mouth stained orange. "They live a long time. Look at Hedwig."

There was an awkward silence that bonded Ron and Hermione back together. "Uh…Harry…Hedwig's dead…"

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. "You're not on this again, are you?"

"But Harry," Ron added in softly. "Last time we saw her, her body was green and rotting…"

"Día de Los Muertos! She was just celebrating the Day of the Dead!"

Hermione patted his arm gently. "Harry, is your owl Mexican?"

"Well, she…"

"_Harry?_"

"SHE LIKES TO VACATION THERE!" Harry screamed. "SHES ON A VACATION RIGHT NOW, IF YOU MUST KNOW!"

Harry's two friends sighed.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"

"_Stupefy_!" Over ten voices screamed, hurling spells at the three fourteen year-olds.

"Duck!" Harry screeched, grabbing Ron's and Hermione's collars and pulling them down to the ground with him.

"ROBERT? WHERE?"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"No! Johnson! _No_!"

The spells whizzed over the trio's heads, taking out a couple of their attackers. Casting in a circle wasn't the smartest idea.

"STOP! THAT'S MY SON!"

There was a slight pause…

"What's your point?"

"Uh…" Mr. Weasley thought, searching for an answer. "I can't remember…Carry on."

"_Stupefy! Stupefy! StupefyStupefyStupefy!_"

This carried on for quite some time.

"Got any fours?" Harry yawned.

"Go fish."

"What about threes?"

"No, Harry. Go fish."

"COME ON, MAN!"

"GO FISH!"

Grumbling, Harry took another card.

"Crouch?" Amos wheezed, wiggling his arm as a puny red light dropped out of his wand and fell straight to the ground. "I don't think this is working. Why don't we try questioning them instead?"

Crouch sniffed. "Yes…fine, very well…"

"DROP YOUR WANDS!" Amos yelled at the group.

Everyone cheered, and backed away from their formation, massaging their wrists. In fact, only one person didn't heed the call.

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"

"JOHNSON!" Amos screamed. "I SAID DROP IT!"

"…fire?"

"No."

"…little fire?"

"_No._"

"Well, well, well…what do you three got to say for yourselves?" Crouch leered over them, stamping on their deck of cards.

"Go fish?" Harry shrugged.

"AHHA! HE CONFESSES!" Crouch screamed, pointing wildly at the three teenagers. "Lock him up! Let it be known that a Mr. Harry James Potter confessed to casting the Dark Mark on August 24, 1994…"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "How do you know my middle name?"

Amos coughed loudly, or really he didn't. He pretended to cough. But it was pretty realistic all the same. So, this non-cough that sounded like a cough, only not really, because everyone knows these bodily sounds were made to interrupt, stopped Crouch from continuing.

"Harry isn't such a great kid, not quite like my son Cedric, but taken into account for his past history with the Dark Lord, I believe it safe to say that That Loser was not the one to cast the Dark Mark."

"OH?" Crouch rallied. "So now you're a traitor?!"

"Barty!" Mr. Weasley scolded. "Think of who you're talking about! The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

"But…but…look at him! Look at those ears! _They can't be trusted!_"

"Please, sir…" Hermione spoke up. "I heard the person who did it. It was a man."

Crouch yanked his head over to stare at her, "A man, you say? Well thank-you _so_ much. That really narrows down our search."

"Barty…hey, Barty…sure you don't wanna try some of Johnson's pills? _Insane wacko._"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Hahaha. Nice try, but I know how this works. You insult me behind my back, right? First my Death Eater son, now you."

"What was that last part?" Harry turned to look at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged, poofing her afro. "Eh, not important."

There was some hurried arguments, until Crouch finally turn around to look at the three teenagers again.

"Well, I suppose the Loser and Mudblood didn't cast the spell…it must be…AHA! THE INVISIABLE-GEEKY SIDEKICK!"

Ron's face turned red. "I WON'T STAND FOR THIS ANY LONGER!" he screeched. "HERESY!"

A hobo with a pair of boots laced around his neck popped out of the grass, pointing at Crouch along with Ron. "HERESY!"

Crouch swelled angrily. "Listen here, you whippersnapper!"

The hobo gasped. "YOU DARE TALK TO THE EXALTED ONE? YOU DARE ACCUSE HIS MAJESTY? WHAT RIGHT HAVE YOU, OH LOWLY KEEPER OF RULES? YOU ARE NOT FIT TO PROVIDE MOLASSES FOR HIS BOOTLACES!"

Mr.Weasley finally decided to speak up. "Ahaha…well, we all agreed it's not Harry, and that's the important thing, yes?"

"—HUMBLE YOURSELF BEFORE OUR ALMIGHTY RULER—"

"We must be leaving now…"

"—AND BEG FOR FORGIVENESS!"

* * *

"OH THANK MERLIN! HARRY, YOU'RE OKAY!" Ginny scrambled out of her chair and quickly shuffled across the tiny tent to Harry, flinging herself onto him. 

Silence. Awkward Silence. Some more silence. Snickering.

"Oy!" Fred laughed beside George, pointing at the two young Gryffindors. "Mesthink Gin-Gin still has a small crush on Harry here!"

George cackled too. "Oh how _adorable_…"

Hermione frowned, glancing at Harry and Ginny's very red faces. "You two shut up. And stop dressing like the Olsen twins."

There was a moment's pause as Fred and George considered themselves in their matching red and gold outfits with fluffy tassels and large initials. "Well how else will anyone know we're twins!?" they demanded shrilly, before sulkingly shuffling to the opposite corner of the room.

Ginny jumped back and pushed Harry away. "Jeez Harry, don't get so grabby. It's not like I was worried about you or anything…or like you…or STOP LOOKING AT ME THIS MOMENT, HARRY JAMES POTTER, OR SO HELP ME, THEY'LL NEVER FIND YOUR WAND AFTER I SHOVE IT UP YOUR—" she paused, then burst into tears and ran out of the tent.

Harry, checking to make sure she was really gone, picked himself up out of the 'bathroom'. "Ok, now how does SHE know my middle name? Huh? THIS CAN'T BE NORMAL." Then sniffling, Harry too burst into tears and ran out the tent.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head and turned back to Ron. "Well that was strang—"

"ROBERT'S HOME! HE SAT ON IT! HARRY RUINS EVERYTHING! NOW ROBERT WILL NEVER RETURN!" And with that he ran bawling out the tent flap.

So Hermione stood there alone, without her friends. Fred and George where huddled in the corner talking of mischief, Percy was trying to hand into his report to Crouch early and Mr.Weasley was running about randomly in the back ground laughing at light bulbs. Hermione turned to look at Charlie and Bill.

"Well? What do you have to say?"

Charlie and Bill shrugged. "We're just here to curse and look cool."

Hermione sighed again.

* * *

The walk back to the Burrow was silent and gloomy; the Diggory's had separated from their pack several trees back. 

"Hey, Harry…" Ron said. "You think Krum will like this card I wrote him?" he held out a misshapen construction-paper card with two stick-people embracing on the cover.

Harry opened it and read:

**DeeR Murk,**

**I a loT Like yOU. A loT. YoU aRe MUCHO Brillo-ant. BloOdy hell. ETC.**

"Ron…are you dyslectic?"

Mr. Weasley leaned over to see what Ron and Harry were doing. "Oh very good, Ron! Way to write those 'R's! Just like I taught you!"

Hermione leaned over to look too. She rolled her eyes. "As you see, wizards don't have any education before Hogwarts."

"Do you think Murk will like it? Do you? DO YOU?"

"Eh…"

"Robert would have liked it…IF HERMIONE HADN'T KILLED HIM!"

"I did not touch your duck, Ronald!"

"OH YEAH? WELL SORRY IF I DON'T BELIEVE YOU, RAT-HATER!"

"WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS, IT WASN'T REALLY A RAT!"

"YOU JUST HATE TO SEE ME HAPPY!"

"OH PLEASE, RONALD."

"YEAH? WELL…I LOVE YOU!"

"What?"

Ron angrily turned to Harry and shoved him. "Jeez, Harry! I already told you, I don't like Hermione, stop putting words in my mouth!"

"You guys, look! We're home!" Mr. Weasley announced gleefully as the huge shape of the Burrow rose to greet them.

The front door was suddenly thrown open, scattering chickens and knocking over flower plants. Mrs. Weasley stood there, her hands pressed to her chest. "Oh, thank Merlin!" she ran out into the yard.

"Mum!" all the Weasley children dropped their bags and opened their arms wide for her embrace.

Mrs. Weasley shoved past them, knocking Ron on his face and upper cutting her husband, she ran straight for Harry, squeezing him in a hug.

"Oh, Harry! Thank goodness you're okay! I was so worried!"

Ron pushed himself to his knees and spat out a dandelion.

"—The Dark Mark!" Mrs. Weasley continued, leading the group inside, Harry still caught in her embrace. "I couldn't believe it! And the Death Eaters! How horrible it must've been for you, my dear!"

"I was mentally traumatized, Mum." Ron spoke up.

"Quite Ronald! I'm talking to Harry!"

Harry struggled, then managed to slip out underneath Molly's arms; he patted her on the shoulder. "Oh, I think I'm okay now, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for asking."

Mrs. Weasley beamed at him. "Oh, bless you!" she rounded on her own children, glaring. "See how he uses his manners? Maybe you lot should try it sometime!"

Ginny leaned over slowly towards the twins. "Has Mum taken her pills?"

Fred and George shook their identical heads, their matching hats with the babble, bobbing.

Mrs. Weasley gave him one extra squeeze then shooed him away. "I'm almost done with the home-made pie I'm making you! And um…" she turned to the rest of her family. "I'm glad I don't have to pay for any funerals."

Once up stairs in Ron's room with Hermione and Ron, Harry quickly ran over to his trunk and pulled out a piece of parchment and quill.

Ron wandered over to his desk and sadly returned his book: Be a Mother Duck to his bookcase.

"Harry…" Hermione turned and watched him frantically scribble on his letter. "Who are you writing too? And why?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, duh. Hermione! Something important has happened in the plot! It's imperative that I inform someone! And I just happen to have a very convenient father-figure. Soo…ergo the letter-ho!"

Hermione glared at him. "Don't think that just because you used three big words in there that I didn't understand what you were saying."

Harry rolled his eyes once again. "Yeah, yeah, sure Hermione."

"I can use big words too!" She screeched. "Like—like…this! You're a…a…butthead!"

Harry shrugged, then walked past the sobbing Ron and towards the window. "Hey…where's Hedwig?"

Hermione guilty looked around the room and shuffled towards Ron. "I have no idea."

Harry frowned, looking around the room. "I know I brought her with me…ah! There she is!"

Harry skipped across the floor and hauled Hedwig's cage with him back to the window.

"Jeez, Hedwig!" Harry gasped, pulling out her decaying body from the cage. "You need a bath!" A wing fell off.

Hermione watched this with an expression of sick horror.

"Come on, Hedwig!" Harry growled, pushing his letter to Sirius against her beak. "Take …the…letter!"

A couple more tries and Harry gave up with a sigh, then turned towards Ron. "Hedwig's trying to be difficult, can you pass me that duct tape?"

Ron lifted his head, tears welling up again. "Did you say…Duck Tape? WAHHHHHH!"

Hermione threw him the roll of tape. "Harry stop being so insensitive!"

Ron lifted his head up again…had Hermione just expressed _concern?_ For _him?_

"I…I…I'm sad too." Ron tried.

"Ahhh…" Hermione pulled him to herself in a hug. "There, there, Ron. It'll be okay."

Ron grinned. "And, and mad about the circumstances!"

"Yes, yes…" Hermione cooed.

"And constipated!"

Hermione violently pushed him off her. "Ewww, Ron!"

"Damn."

The sound of a window being open drew both of their attentions back to Harry. With the letter taped around her body, Harry lopped her body out the window.

CRASH!

He smiled vaguely. "I hope Sirius replies soon."

* * *

_**On the Platform 9 ¾…**_

"Got your trunks, everyone?" Mr. Weasley questioned them.

"Yes." They all chanted.

"Well, you best be off then. I bet you're all wanting to know about the big surprise at Hogwarts is."

"What?"

"Yeah," Mr. Weasley continued, looking confused. "Didn't I tell you? The super amazing thing that hasn't happened at Hogwarts for hundreds of years, and just conveniently falls on the same year that the Dark Lord plans an outright attack on Harry?"

"No, you didn't tell us!"

"Oh, well." Mr. Weasley shrugged, turning around with Mrs. Weasley, ready to go home. "You know now. Why even Charlie will be there…so…see ya."

And with that they disapparated.

"Wow, Charlie's going to be at this event? I wonder what for…" Ron thought aloud as they boarded the train.

Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. "Honestly, connect the dots, Ronald!"

Ron paused. "Uhh…wait. What dots? Connect them with what?"

"I do not believe you are that dense." Hermione gave him a Look as they seated themselves in their compartment.

"But Hermione! Should I connect the dots with a quill or a pen?" Ron groaned, he turned accusingly towards Harry. "Have you already connected these dots? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WE HAD TO? It was Potions homework, wasn't it? I knew Snape would assign something imposable like this…"

"Uh, Ron, no. That's not it…she just means it probably has something to do with dragons…"

"SNAPE'S HAVING DRAGONS KILL US? CURSE YOU SNAPE!"

There was suddenly a knocking on the glass door. "Anything off the trolleys, dears?"

"Oi!" Ron jumped to his feet, completely forgetting the last five minutes. "I want food!"

Harry and Ron opened their door to gaze at the selection.

"I want four Chocolate Frogs, three Sugar Quills, and a bag of Bertie's Botts." Ron informed the Trolley Witch.

"Fifteen sickles."

"…oh…" Ron peered down at the money in his hand. "…what can I get for three knuts?"

"Well, Poor Boy…that's about half a Cockroach Cluster."

Ron sniffed, giving her the money. Snickering, the Trolley Witch handed him half of a burnt Cockroach Cluster.

Harry frowned. "Look, Ron, I'll buy you…"

"It's…okay…Harry…" Ron hiccupped. "I'll just go now…" And crying, he ran back into the compartment.

The Trolley Witch grinned, now turning her attention to Harry. "Anything for you, my dear?"

And then, like a vision from heaven, a glorious light appeared and out sauntered the most beautiful woman Harry had ever laid his eyes on.

"Anything…_sweet_ for you, my dear?" The Trolley Witch was now wagging her eyebrows at him. "Eh? Eh?" she elbowed him in the side, causing him to fall down.

"Neahhhaaa…" he babbled from the floor.

She was a goddess, an angel, a vision in white and Ravenclaw, she was…**_CHO CHANG_**.

Fireworks appeared and flared in the background, alighting Harry's hair on fire.

"OY!" Cho suddenly screamed. "OKAY, WHOS THE WISEGUY WHO GAVE ME THE WINGS? EH?" She stomped around, glaring at people. "IF I FIND YOU, SO HELP ME, I'LL CORNER YOU IN A DARK ALLEY!"

She was so kind and tender-hearted and soft-spoken. But was that accent Scottish or Texan?

"GIMME SOME FOOOOD!"

Maybe Transylvanian.

With two fistfuls of chocolate, Cho trudged back to her compartment flat-footed.

Harry sighed, watching her gracefully prance away as the fire on his hair reached his ears and eyebrows. She was _so_ lovely.

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	30. Frilly Fripperies

Oh Siriusly, I wouldn't yell at you. _We'll talk about this later. _(evil smile) (audience shudders) Now, here's the next chapter.

That Loser

**Chapter 30: Frilly Fripperies**

The compartment had grown quiet. Hermione's knitting needles clacked as a misshapen red sweater slowly took shape. In the corner, Ron gnawed thoughtfully on half a burnt cockroach cluster, and Harry sighed with boredom. Hmmm…what to do? Harry vaguely scratched his scar. Maybe he could get Ron and Hermione to notice his brooding hero pain and misery! Harry cleared his throat loudly and scratched his scar again. Hermione knitted a third arm onto her sweater, and Ron continued crunching, trying to lick a stray cockroach leg off of his nose. Harry frowned. This was going to have to get serious. He casually took a baseball bat out of his luggage and began to beat himself over the head with it. Hermione barely looked up from knitting an eighth arm. Ron was still cross-eyed and covered in cockroach crunchies.

As the train screeched to a halt, Harry was on the floor having spasms screaming THE PAIN! THE PAIN! VOLDEMORT-I SEE-EVIL-NO ESCAPE!

Hermione looked up from under a pile of mutilated sweater. "Harry, stop being such a tragic brooding hero, the train's stopped."

Harry stopped seizing. "Really? Oh, great!"

* * *

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Hogwarts students got into carriages or boats and entered Hogwarts for another year. But, as they would soon find out, it wasn't going to be just any year. Or really, since the Weasleys had already dropped the bomb about the special secret surprise, the whole school knew something was up, but had no idea what to expect.

One thing they didn't expect was a large flying carriage, but that was exactly what came plummeting out of the sky like a fairytale on steroids. Hagrid was outside directing the carriage down to the Hogwarts landing strip, which apparently was newly installed, with glowing paddles.

"There now, easy does it!" Hagrid waved the carriage closer, but had to duck for cover as it scraped narrowly past his head.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughed loudly.

Hagrid, covered with dirt and humiliated, burst into tears. "My only friends! I THOUGHT YER CARED!"

Hermione blushed, ashamed. "Sorry Hagrid, we didn't mean it. Right guys?"

"What a loser!" laughed Ron.

"Yeah, a loser!" Harry snorted uncontrollably and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Yeah."

They would have continued with this humiliation if something more interesting hadn't been happening in the center of the lake. The water bubbled oddly and something dark moved under the surface.

"I wonder what that could be?" Hermione, forgetting completely about Hagrid's trampled feelings, and craned her neck out the window to get a better look.

"The Squid's got indigestion?" offered Ron.

"No, look, it's a ship!"

A large black ship was rising out of the lake, its black sails sporting the Dark Mark.

"No you idiot, the other ones!" shouted an angry voice from the ship.

The black sails were immediately lowered and replaced with white sails bearing the Durmstrang shield.

* * *

"Students! If you could take your seats please?" Dumbledore motioned from the platform towards the house tables. He suddenly cowered in fear. "NOT SO QUICKLY!!!"

Ron pointed at him, sniffing. "I think the old codger's loosing his mind. And his fashion sense. I mean, look at his ensemble!" Dumbledore was wearing an odd pastel fez hat with a tassle.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you notice these things often?"

"Robert would have noticed! Besides, I'm trying to find a new hobby…SINCE ROBERT'S GONE!" Ron sobbed uncontrollably.

"Wow…how sad." said Harry, cringing at the sight of Ron's bloated red face.

"Oh," he sniffled, "and Hermione, your clogs are so last season."

Harry patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Um Ron, I think you should find a different hobby."

Hermione glared at Ron with murder in her eyes.

"Now, I'm sure you've noticed the new things that are happening this year." Dumbledore smiled good-naturedly.

"New curtains?"

"Suspiciously empty chair at the teacher's table?"

"Hurtful comments by the people ye counted as yer friends!" Hagrid realized everyone was looking at him, and tried to shrink back into his chair. It didn't work, considering he was larger than the chair.

"A LACK OF FASHION AWARENESS DEMONSTRATED BY THE FACULTY? Ow!" Ron rubbed his cheek. "That's really hurtful, Hermione."

"Someone fired Filch?"

"Toga party!"

"The miniature golf course?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh yes, that's a new addition I've had my eye on for a little while, but Professor McGonagall wouldn't let me have it. No money in the budget for such frilly fripperies, blah blah blah. So I went behind her back and bought it anyway!"

"Excuse me?" McGonagall glared.

"Fripperies?" Ron snorted loudly.

"_Excuse me?_"

"Nothing Professor, nothing!"

Dumbledore continued. "I had to take the money from some non-vital departments, I'm sure you won't even notice the changes. So there will be no new textbooks this year, and no heating in the winter, and we're going to put back into use the Hogwarts Bathroom Token! Won't that be fun?!"

Colin Creevy raised his hand in the background. "Professor, I have to go to the bathroom."

"That's the spirit!" shouted Dumbledore happily, pumping his fist. "Buy your bathroom token for three Knuts, and insert it in the slot. Then, happy flushing!"

"Well," whispered Harry to Ron, "at least we've got the golf course."

"And naturally the golf course will be completely off limits to the students. But no, that's not the big surprise! This year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament!"

The hall was full of bored silence. Crickets chirped in the background.

"WHAT'S THAT?" A single voice shouted above the deafening silence.

Dumbledore faltered. "Um…yes. Well, it's a challenge between champions to win the Triwizard Cup."

"WHAT'S IN IT FOR US?"

"Oh? Oh…well, we've discussed the trophy…" Dumbledore looked panicked.

"GET ON WITH IT!"

"Yes! Yes, there's the…satisfaction of a job well done?"

"WHAT? ARE YOU JOKING? THAT'S ALL?!"

"Oh, and there's some gold of course, but I'm sure upstanding young people like yourselves wouldn't care about that sort of thing."

Chirpchirpchirpchirpchirp 

"Um…this is a very exciting time?" Dumbledore was starting to loose his cool. "And…um…we're very pleased to be hosting our two sister schools? Beauxbatons and Durmstrang? Who will be joining us for the Triwizard Tournament challenges? And here's Beauxbatons?"

The girls from Beauxbatons pranced down the aisle, fluttering in matching blue silk outfits. Near the back, the Beauxbatons boy students cowered in embarrassment, covered in frills and baby blue. Suddenly the lead girl screamed and attempted to recover a piece of her uniform that had fallen off. Censorship spells were cast immediately, blurring her from view.

Ron grabbed Harry's omniculars, trying to get a better look. "Hey look Harry, replay! Ha! And now, slow motion!"

"Awesome!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're sick, you know that?"

A giant woman rushed to help her crying student. Hagrid's eyes were fixed on her. She was so…so beautiful. She made him want to stab people with a fork. He happily poked holes in Dumbledore's fez, drinking in Madame Maxime's...largeness.

"AHHHH!! BLUE!" Dumbledore cowered in fear again. "Oh, never mind, its just a wardrobe malfunction. Carry on."

The door suddenly exploded open to the beating of drums and a chorus of manly hoots and grunts. The Durmstrang students strutted down the isle, doing complex gymnastics and banging sticks on the ground, spouting sparks.

"You know," said Harry, as his hair and eyebrows burned happily, "this is the third time this summer I've caught on fire."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. The first time Dudley set fire to my mops, and I dove into the bonfire to save them. My red cape got a little burned around the edges, but nothing a little sewing can't repair! You can sew, right Hermione?"

"But—!"

"And the second time I spontaneously combusted." Harry nodded solemnly.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

Harry shrugged. "Well I got better!"

"Wicked!" Ron gave Harry a thumbs up.

"And then Hedwig was playing with matches and set my bedroom on fire."

"Harry, Hedwig's dead."

Harry smiled brightly. "No she isn't, she's right here!" He held up the duct taped, rotting body of Hedwig.

Hermione grabbed Ron roughly by the shoulder and hissed into his ear. "I thought I told you to bury her in the backyard!"

"I did!"

Harry wiped a clod of dirt off of Hedwig's head…and an eye. "Yep, good 'ol Hedwig. You know she's quite the pyromaniac! And quite the little digger. I found her buried in the backyard while spending my weekly time appreciating the role of moles in the ecosystem. I didn't know owls dug tunnels!"

"Yeah, me either." Ron shifted uncomfortably under Harry's crazed enthusiasm and Hermione's heated glare.

Harry continued. "So those were the first three times I caught on fire, and then there's now. It's actually starting to smart a little bit, so, if I could have some assistance…?"

Hermione held up a finger. "Don't forget that time on the train. With Cho's fireworks?"

Harry squinted in confusion. "What time on the train?"

"Um, nevermind."

The Durmstrang headmaster walked in behind the rest of the acrobats with Viktor Krum.

Ron shrieked and waved his arms in a frenzy, pushing Harry off of his feet. "Oh my gosh, IT'S VIKTOR KRUM!!!"

"Let me see!" Hermione and Ron shoved each other out of the way to get a glimpse of the hunched figure trudging duck-footed down the aisle.

Harry was feeling left out. "But, but he's not even pretty! Pay attention to me. I'm famous!"

"So's he, now move over and give me your omniculars." Hermione tore the omniculars out of Harry's hands and trained them on Krum.

Ron threw a scented handkerchief at Krum. I LUv u MuRK was sewn onto the front along with a small ragged heart in the Bulgarian colors. The initials RW were stitched in the corner.

Harry stared at him.

Ron shrugged. "Well, you know, I wanted him to know it was me." Little paper hearts fluttered around Ron.

Harry frowned. "Hey, where'd the hearts come from?"

Ron smiled. "Oh, I've taken up origami! Fashion scouting is so last season. Look, I can make a duck! See, he looks like Rob…Rob…ROBERT! ROBERT WHY?!"

The Durmstrang fireworks flamed to a crescendo, and Dumbledore cowered in fear…again. "FIRE!!!"

Harry clapped appreciatively. "It's Pyrotastic!"

Dumbledore trembled. "Yes, well, let's continue then." He nodded to Karkaroff, who smiled yellowly.

Ron cringed. "Gross, look at Karkaroff's teeth."

Hermione elbowed him. "Cut it out, he can hear you, you know." She glanced quickly back at Karkaroff, who was elbowing Snape and winking viciously, as if he had a rather nasty twitch.

"You know Hermione, you're very hurtful. Are your parents abusers?"

She sighed. "No, they're dentists."

Harry snickered. "Well then I bet they'd like Karkaroff!"

Ron gave Harry a high-five, while Hermione glowered, while Karkaroff pointed to his right forearm and nodded to Snape repeatedly, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.

The headmasters seated themselves at conveniently spaced places at the table. Hagrid, seated next to Madame Maxime, stabbed Flitwick's hand with a fork.

"Be careful, you oaf!" Flitwick scowled, his Hitler mustache rippling in distaste.

Ron gasped. "THE EVIL OF MUSTACHES HAS RETURNED! BEWARE THE MUSTACHE!"

"Shut up Ron, Dumbledore's about to speak!"

"Oh, you let _him _talk—"

"Ron?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Oh…right."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "The Triwizard Tournament will be held here at Hogwarts this year. One student from school will be selected as a champion, but more about that from Bartemus Crouch, our coordinator of events. Bartemus?"

A familiar face stepped in front of the mike. Sour expression. Crazed look in the eye. Hitler mustache.

"IT'S A CONSPIRACY!" shouted Ron, popping up from his seat. Harry pulled him back down.

"Good afternoon students."

Chairs scraped across the floor as the students stood up and saluted. "HEIL HITLER!"

"The Triwizard Tournament is a test of skill, strength, and bravery. And what will you be competing for, you ask? Hit the spotlight, Albus!"

Suddenly a light glowed on a sparkling golden cup engraved with the words OUTWIT OUTPLAY OUTLAST: THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT.

"The Triwizard Cup will be awarded to the winning champion. One champion will be chosen from each school by the impartial Goblet of Fire. It is guarded by the most ancient magic, and will choose only the most worthy student to be a champion."

Harry's eyes were shining. "I'll enter the contest, and I'll win it for Cho!"

"I'll enter the contest, and I'll win it for Viktor!" Ron wiped his nose. "I love you MURK!"

"Do not enter this contest lightly, for the contest is very challenging, and has claimed the life of more than one champion. The challenges are meant to be hard, to require great skill to survive."

"Oh, I'm out then." Ron sighed.

"Well, I'll take any risk! The more stupid and unlikely, the better! Bring on the challenges!" screamed Harry.

"Also, a student must be seventeen to enter."

"THAT'S RUBBISH!" yelled Fred, standing up. He immediately sat back down when no one else joined in his shouts of protest, his face bright red.

"No more questions? Good. Thank you for your attention."

The sky suddenly split with lightning and rolled with thunder.

"UMBRELLA HATS, EVERYONE!"

Dumbledore cowered in fear for the millionth time, quickly throwing away the metal golf club in his hand.

A dark figure suddenly stepped out of the shadows and fired a bolt of white light into the stormy sky. The clouds receded and the sun shone again.

"Alastor Moody, so good to see you…finally." Dumbledore shook his hand firmly.

Ron leaned over to Hermione. "Who's that do you think?"

"Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I assume. Lupin's chair is still empty."

Seamus interrupted out of nowhere. "That's Alastor Moody, the famous Auror!"

A random boy jumped in, for no reason other than to speed along the plot and explain another magical term. "Auror?"

"Dark wizard catcher," explained Seamus.

"Whoa." They all stared at Moody. He was enough of a character to hold their short attention spans. He had a wooden leg, scars crisscrossing his face, and a rotating, electric blue magical eye held in place by a leather strap, like a pirate's eye patch.

Neville shuddered. "The eye is always watching…"

Moody suddenly pulled a flask from the mysterious regions of his coat and took a swig.

"What'd you think he's drinking?" Seamus asked.

Harry squinted. "I dunno, but I don't think its pumpkin juice."

Ron gasped. "No, it's blood! Or acid! Or toxic waste! Or water! Or Polyjuice potion!"

"Yeah right, shut up Ron."

Ron pouted. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn—"

"We won't."

* * *

_**Late that Night (with an aura of mystery):**_

Karkaroff sneaked to the room in which the Goblet of Fire was held, the theme music from The Pink Panther blaring in the background. With exaggerated movements, he threw the doors open, then cringed as the bang of wood against stone echoed through the drafty corridors. Regaining his composure, he prepared to enter the room, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Wha? Whossat?!" Karkaroff's eyes flared wildly.

"What exactly are you doing?" Professor McGonagall stared at him icily over half moon glasses.

"Er, you know, just looking suspicious and all." He flashed her with a wide yellow smile, which shrunk immediately as the temperature of McGonagall's stare dropped twenty degrees.

"I'll just…go back to doing…something else, then."

* * *

The next day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't have to wait long for the appearance of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He made an impressive entrance exactly on time.

"Good morning class, my name is," Moody wrote viciously on the chalkboard, "BARTE…" He suddenly froze, then erased it quickly with his sleeve. "MOODY, my name is Professor Moody."

The class blinked expectantly at him.

"Right, yes."

Moody's eyes drifted around the classroom, to where Ron was snoring quietly on his desk.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Ron jumped.

"Ha! Yes, that's why constant vigilance is so important, now and always. You need to be alert, you need to be ready, YOU NEED TO FIND ANOTHER PLACE TO PUT YOUR CHEWING GUM, MR. FINNEGAN!" Moody's magical eye swiveled back in his head.

Seamus muttered, "The old codger can see out of the back of his head!"

Moody swung around. "AND HEAR ACROSS CLASSROOMS! And tap dance!"

"Evil is always lurking out there, sometimes closer than you would think." Moody stopped to twitter oddly for a second. "Now, can anyone tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are? No? What about you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was suddenly teary eyed, although she hadn't had a family member die of one of them like Neville or Harry, both of which were taking the sudden mention of the magic that haunted their nightmares quite well. "Three, sir."

"And why are they so named?"

"Be…because they are unforgivable. The use of any of these requires a sentence of death."

"Exactly right. Now, who can tell me one of the curses?" Moody's gaze swung around wildly. "Eh?"

Ron stood up nervously. "Well, Fred and George did tell me about one. The Happy Kitchen Curse?"

Moody laughed out loud. "Son, I think your brothers were fooling with you."

Ron snapped. "I knew it!"

"Anyone else?"

Ron raised his hand again.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, what is it this time? The Dancing Laundry Curse, perhaps?"

Ron blushed. "No, my dad told me about this one. The Imperius Curse?"

Moody nodded. "Yes, he would tell you about that one; it's given the Ministry quite a bit of trouble in the past." Moody dipped his hand into a large jar of spiders.

"SPIDERS! SPIDERS! SPIDERS!"

"Yes, thank you Mr. Weasley." Moody stroked the spider fondly with his finger. "I'm going to use her to demonstrate the effects of the Unforgivable Curses."

"But I thought you said their use was…well…unforgivable? Should you really be doing them in a classroom?" Hermione frowned, disapproving.

"Uh…yes! Mwahahaha! _Imperio!_" Moody waved his wand at the spider, and guided it up in the air with his wand. He let it fall on top of Ron's head.

"SPIDERS! SPIDERS! SPIDERS!"

"Come now, nothing to be afraid of. Though, if she bites, she's deadly!"

"Mm-mm! Mm-mm! Mm-mm!" Ron was turning blue in the effort not to make a sound.

Draco was laughing harshly in the background.

Moody smiled. "What're you laughing at?"

The spider jumped to Draco's face. Predictably, Draco panicked and showed how much of a pansy he really is.

"What should I make her do now?" Moody questioned. "Make her throw herself against the window?" The spider crushed itself against a window.

Most of the laughter started to die away.

Ron was still laughing.

"Drown herself?" Moody grew more serious. The spider hung precariously over a bucket of water, its legs breaking the surface in insectile fear.

"AHAHAHAHA! IT'S FUNNY!" Ron suddenly stopped laughing when Moody glared at him.

"You're ruining my dramatic tension."

"Sorry."

Moody cleared his throat. "As you can see, the Imperius Curse can be quite a problem. After the Dark Lord lost control, many followers claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse, and therefore forced to do his bidding."

Hermione nodded. "And the Ministry wasn't able to tell who was telling the truth."

"Exactly. Give me another curse."

Neville stood up cautiously.

"Mr. Longbottom." Moody snickered. "Sorry, it's the last name."

Neville shrugged. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Um, the Cruciatus curse is another one."

"Exactly right." He took another spider. "_Crucio!_"

The spider writhed in pain.

Neville turned away, his eyes tightly shut.

Ron giggled.

Moody gave him a warning look, then turned back to torturing the spider. "Yes. Yes! YES! MWAHAHA! THE DARK LORD WILL REIGN AGAIN, REBELLIOUS SPIDER! FEEL MY WRATH! MWAHAHA! MWAHAHA! VENGENCE WILL BE MINE!!!"

Hermione screamed. "STOP IT! Can't you see it's bothering him?!"

Moody blinked. "Eh? Oh, right. Sorry, I got caught up in the whole Reliving the Glory Days of Being a Death Eater thing. Uh…you didn't hear that."

Harry blinked good-naturedly. "Hear what?"

"Ah…never mind. Now, Miss Granger, can you give me the last curse?"

Hermione shook her head forcefully, tears in her eyes.

"No? Well then…_Avada Kedavra!"_ The spider died without so much as a squeak.

The ghastly green light reflected in Harry's eyes.

**"No not Harry!"**

"**Move aside you silly girl!"**

"**I am silly, aren't I?"**

**"HARRY, NOOOOO!!!"**

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ron laughed uncontrollably.

Moody whirled to face Ron. "WHAT'S SO BLASTED FUNNY?!"

Ron giggled. "That scar on your nose looks like Georgia! GEORGIA! HA HA! IT'S FUNNY!"

"_Avada…_no, it's not worth it…" Moody sighed. "The killing curse. Only one person is known to have survived it. _And he is sitting in this very room_." Moody stopped pacing in front of Harry's desk. He twitched oddly and pulled out his flask, taking a gigantic nervous gulp, quickly wiping lacewing from his lips.

Hermione raised her hand. "Uh, Professor? You've got some boomslang skin on your chin."

Moody raised a fist to wipe it away.

"No, more to the left. No, lower. Lower. Yeah, right…no, it's still there. There. Okay, you got it."

Moody looked frazzled. "Um…class dismissed." He walked back to his desk muttering, casting dark looks in Harry's direction.

Harry noticed Moody staring and waved brightly.

Foolish boy. Soon he would see. They'd all see! SOON!

* * *

_**Oddly**_


	31. RIP

I just wanted to make a general note to all of our fans out there and…(whips out binoculars) it does seem we have quite a few. (Blushes). Our loverly fans must know by now, we do not practice spell check, or grammar check for that matter. You see we make ourselves deadlines, and we harp at each other when they are not made. So, I am terribly sorry for any confusion, and plan on going back and revising. In the mean time, well, you all are pretty smart, read between the lines.

Hey, did I mention I wrote another chapter?

That Loser

**Chapter 31: RIP **

"Well I don't think you have enough guts to enter the tournament!" Fred grinned at Harry as the group of Gryffindors made their way into the Great Hall that next morning.

"Psst!" Harry rolled his eyes, flipping his hand towards the twin. "I could SO enter the Triwizard Tournament if I wanted to. Some stupid age-line couldn't stop me. After all, I am THE Harry Potter."

George laughed with his brother. "Oh, come on Harry, are you really saying that you would enter this tournament even though Dumbledore clearly expressed discontent at anyone below the age of seventeen entering?"

Harry nodded and Hermione held up a tape recorder. "Yes, I could find a way to enter no matter how, there's nothing in the world that would stop me from submitting my name to the Goblet of Fire for the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts school of Witch Craft and Wizardry, to prove, I am not a loser! End quote—spoken by Harry Potter." Hermione clicked the stop button.

The Weasley Twins laughed again; they were all standing by Dumbledore's age line, the Goblet of Fire, the impartial judge of the Tournament, sat inside, ten feet from any edge of the pink-chalked outline. It looked suspiciously like a wooden pickle barrel, with the logo: **PROPERTY OF HOGWARTS KITCHEN** stamped on it. Beside it was a hopscotch board drawn in with orange and green hearts, and in yellow chalk: **DuMBLeS RuZ**.

"Well, Fred…" George began.

"Yes, George?" Fred answered him.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They hooked arms, a small potion vial in each hand.

Hermione suddenly looked up from her book, squinting at them; she could smell rule-breaking a mile away. "What are you two doing?"

"Simple aging-potion!" they chorused.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

And they tipped back the liquid, pulled a face then bounced into the ring. Nothing happened.

Hermione, her eyes still narrowed in good-hearted strictness, bristled. "Well, I expect it takes a second for the line to boot up…"

And they waited.

And they waited some more.

Hermione dipped a finger in the chart and rubbed it critically between her fingers. She gave it a sniff. "Oh!"

Fred paled. "What is it?"

"Poison?" George whispered.

"Ground up remains of Snape's first-years?" Fred blanched.

"Residue of an evil plant named Edmund?" George hissed.

"No…why…it's simple children's drawing chalk…but…that can't be right…"

The sound of furious cycling could be heard. Dumbledore appeared, breaking on his tricycle and squealing to a halt. He screamed terrified at the sight of the chalk circle, then quickly regained himself.

"Mr. Weasleys, you know better! Out! Out!"

Grumbling, the twins marched out of the circle, arguing about who should have kept watch.

"Professor!" Hermione cried, as he turned to leave and the sounds of some good-naturedly sibling squabbling started. "This can't possibly be your means of defense from under-agers!"

Dumbledore smiled blankly. "Trust me, Miss Granger; I know a little more about these things than you do."

"But—"

"And, look! No one else has stepped over the line yet!" He nonchalantly shoved a first year Hufflepuff boy out of the circle as he was trying to take a shortcut across the Hall.

"Don't worry about it." Ron patted her hand lightly as the Headmaster giggled and pedaled back to the Head's Table. "Why don't you go back to your nice little book…"

"**FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"**

Lee Jordan suddenly acquired a microphone and a jazz hat.

"**Oh! Did you see that punch? Ladies and Gentleman? The ol' Sunday Punch knocked him into Queer Street! This, ladies and gentleman is a fine day in boxing history! Brother against brother!..." **

Hermione growled. "That's another thing! I was just reading this short 1300 page summery of random magical knowledge, and do you know what it says? Hogwarts endorses _slave labor_."

"**And here's the count! And he's down! Oh! He's down!"**

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Hermione. Everyone makes the first years do the grunt work." He turned to the small Ravenclaw girl beside him. "Did I say you can stop shining my shoes? DID I?"

"**It's all over! Ladies and Gentlemen! All over!"**

"No, not that!" Hermione flung her book towards their noses. "House-elves! And you!" She glanced behind her at a young Gryffindor boy. "Hand me that other book." They exchanged books as the small first year tried balancing the other twenty books on his left hand. "Oh, have you guys met Markus? My personal library? Say hello, Markus."

"Mhhumm."

Hermione glared. "_Clearer._"

"Hello." He squeaked, as five books toppled out of his right hand.

Hermione huffed. "You guys save me a plate, okay? I got to go take care of something." She dug around her pockets and produced a whip, then grabbed Markus by the left forearm and dragged him out of the Great Hall.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!"

Harry and Ron turned towards the Gryffindor Table when they were intercepted by the DADA Professor.

"Oy! Potter!"

"Yes, Professor Moody?"

"Your last name's spelled with two 'o's and a 't', right?"

Harry glared. "One 'o', two 't's…why? What's this for?"

Moody waved him off, shuffling towards the Goblet of Fire. "Oh, nothing…nothing really…you just watch your back, Potter, okay?"

"Yes, Professor."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

* * *

Later that day, at dinner, the three schools waited impatiently inside the Great Hall. Tonight was the night that the Goblet of Fire would decide the three school champions. 

"What do you reckon Pretty Tarzan Boy Diggory is Hogwarts' Champion?" Ron questioned Harry as he stuffed a potato in his mouth.

Harry shrugged, then slowly placed his silverware back on the table. He sighed. "Speaking of bad things…I have something to tell you…"

"Whazzit?" Ron mumbled threw the potato, Hermione too, turned to look his way.

"I h-have some bad n-n-ne-news!" Harry sniffed, tears forming in his eyes. "Today, when I went to play with Hedwig in our monthly get-together…as we flew up together on my Firebolt…she—she fell!"

Hermione's face remained impassive, a piece of potato mash dripped out of Ron's mouth.

"I mean—" Harry continued, beginning to rant. "I duct taped her feet just like she liked it! But for some reason…she jumped off the broom!"

Harry's face was screwed up in misery by now. "And when I got down there…" Reaching in his pocket he pulled out the remains of his Snowy Owl. "HER HEAD FELL OFF!" he bawled.

Hermione watched silently as bits of moldy decaying feathers fell onto the Gryffindor Table. Ron swallowed his potato and awkwardly patted Harry on the shoulder. "Uh…I'm so sorry…er…" he continued to pat Harry while shooting glances at Hermione.

Hermione coughed, deciding to speak up. "We'll give her a nice funeral, Harry."

Harry sniffed, pulling Lavender near him and blowing his nose on her robes.

"—EW! HARRY!"

"I just…never saw it coming!" he continued, "She looked so happy when we were up in the air…WHY? OH WHY MUST GOD BE SO CRUEL! FIRST DAD, THEN MUM! THEN SCABBERS AND ROBERT! WHY HEGWIG TOO? WHHHHYY!?"

Hermione slowly pulled the dead corpse of Hedwig out of Harry's hands and threw it over her shoulder. "You gotta be careful with dead birds, Harry, you can get rabies."

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes and then viciously itched several talon-marks. "Oh, come _on_ Hermione…" he picked up a goblet of pumpkin juice and tipped it into his mouth. He suddenly gagged as it poured back out the side of his mouth. "I can't swallow!" he gasped, coughing as his mouth started to foam.

Hermione smiled.

Ron laughed. "It's nothing, Harry! I got bit by a wild raccoon once, and I'm fine!" a potato bug crawled across his forehead and dug deeper into the mold.

Harry gagged again. "I GOTTA GET TO THE HOSPITAL WING!"

Ron grinned. "Speaking of dead owls…guess what!"

"What?" Hermione answered as Harry convulsed on the floor.

"Well remember when Sirius sent me that little owl, because he tried desperately to murder and torture the only pet I ever owned?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I packed him away in my Hogwarts trunk at the end of the year last year and when I opened it today…I found it!"

Hermione paled, in her mind's eye seeing another Hedwig. "Are you sure it's alive?"

"Yeah!" The little light brown bird hopped onto Ron's shoulder and hooted shrilly. "For some reason there were all these bugs inside my trunk on my clothes, it must have survived on that…it's just strange…how do you think they got in there?"

Hermione coughed. "The mold on your face."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

The lights in the Great Hall suddenly dimmed. Hermione kicked Harry in the gut. "Hey, Harry. Get up; it's time to see who the Champions are."

Harry slowly crawled back into his seat. "Why bother? It's not like it's affecting me in any way."

Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked down in front of the house tables, the Goblet of Fire was beginning to flame. "EAAAKKKKKKKKK!" Dumbledore screeched and dived to the floor in fear. The students began to laugh.

Dumbledore glared from his position on the ground, incredibly fast, he donned a military helmet, some face paint and a machine gun. "WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT? HUH? CHAILE'S EVERYWHERE!"

The Hall fell silent, Minerva shifted uncomfortably in her seat, smiling sweetly at the visiting Headmasters. "Its—uh…a game we like to play…uh…Guess That Muggle War!"

Dumbledore, while humming to the Pink Panther, slowly crept to his knees and started inching towards the Goblet of Fire, in an small squirt, a piece of parchment flew into the air.

Dumbledore quickly jumped backwards, covering his face with his arms. "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!"

The paper floated serenely to the crazy Headmaster's feet, Dumbledore peered at it between his fingers.

"Ahahahaha…um…yes." He pushed a small tape into the boom box at his feet and the sounds of the Miss America Pageant began to drift over the Hall. "The Champion for Beauxbatons is…Fleur Delacour!"

Crickets began to chirp.

"Ah…the lovely Veela?" Albus tried.

Wild applause cracked over the four tables. Smiling beautifully, Fleur got to her feet and floated out of the room into the chamber right off of the Great Hall.

The Goblet flared up again. Dumbledore screamed and fired a round off into the air.

Madame Maxime wrinkled her nose. "Zees British ar' strange."

The Hogwarts professors promptly picked up their teacups. "To the Queen." Slurp. Toss. Crash. Tinkle. Tinkle.

Down at the Gryffindor Table, Ron narrowed his eyes. "I know what's going on with Dumbledore…" his hissed. "IT'S SNAPE'S FAULT!"

"TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!" The Potions Master yelled over at them.

Dumbledore carefully bent down and picked up the piece of parchment. "And…" The peppy notes of the Pageant continued to play. "The Champion for Durmstrang is…Victor Krum!"

More silence.

"Murk the Seeker?"

Crazed applause broke out as, scowling, the Bulgarian made his way after the French.

And then, at long last, the Goblet of Fire flared for one last time as the Hogwarts' Champion's paper floated into the Headmaster's hands…

"And…the Hogwarts Champion is…!" Dumbledore paused momentarily to shift his bazooka. "Cedric Diggory!"

…

"Tarzan Boy!"

Wild cheers rose up from the Hufflepuff table, followed by the rest of the Hall.

Cedric slowly climbed down from his tree as the monkeys threw flowers in his hair and the Miss America music blasted louder than ever.

And then, with one finally wave, Cedric entered the Champion's Chamber and disappeared from sight.

"Yes…" Dumbledore clapped his hands together cheerfully as the music halted and everyone began to quiet down. "As students, and spectators, your schools call on you to cheer on your Cham—"

The Goblet of Fire suddenly turned blue and let loose an almighty blast—for dramatic purposes—it appeared that it had one last name to issue.

"OH, HOLY MOTHER!" Dumbledore strapped his helmet back on tighter, and pumped the gun. "This looks like my time back in Nam…when the Japs were surrounding us in Gettysburg!"

Minerva sighed. "No, Albus, you were still teaching then, and then and then."

He paused to look up at her. "Well…then it's like my time in North Korea, when involved with the aerial dogfights of 1917, we invaded Normandy! It was so cold in Valley Forge we had to eat our own boots!"

Beside Ron, a Hobo popped up from beneath the table with a jar of molasses.

Minerva gave up. "Just read the paper, Albus!"

Gently, Albus raised it towards his face…his hand suddenly starting to shake.

"Harry Podder!"

Dead silence.

A small Gryffindor first year popped up from his seat. "Hey! That's me!"

Professor Moody coughed loudly from his seat. "That's _Potter_."

No one answered the call.

"That Loser?" Dumbledore tried again.

Gasps came from around the Hall. Beside him, Ron snapped his fork in half.

"Here you are, Master…" the Hobo handed him another one.

"Go on, Harry…" Hermione gave him a brutal shove and he fell out of his seat.

Slowly, Harry straightened, tripping about six more times on his cloak as his walked up towards the Headmaster.

"He's a cheat!"

"Oy! Come on! If _Potter_ can enter, so can I!"

"What a Loser!"

"This can't be possible…" Dumbledore was addressing the Hall. "I rigged—ah, I mean…but…THE CUP HAS SPOKEN!"

Harry bravely looked up at the Professor's Table…no one was smiling. He turned his gaze to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore pointed at him as he passed, glaring. "I'll deal with you later."

And he entered the next room.

* * *

The three Champions looked up as Harry walked in. Fleur wrinkled her nose, and flipped back her long hair, Krum grunted, but Cedric was the one who asked the question. 

"Do they want us back in there, little fourth year? Huh, boy? Do they? Do they?"

Harry croaked, unable to voice anything. But that was alright, because the adults quickly followed him.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Dumbledore rushed up to Harry and backhanded him.

Harry flew backwards into the Trophy Cabinet. Dumbledore reached out with both hands them began choking and shaking him, then threw him into the wall, and chuched him into Madame Maxime.

"ANSWER ME!"

"Gah…" Harry's head lolled back and forth.

"No? Well then take this!"

Snape desperately tried not to smile in the corner.

Dumbledore body slammed him with his elbow.

"Professor—?" Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

He began hitting him with Professor Moody's false leg.

"Answer—" Whack. "Me—" Whack. "Potter—" Whack. "—!" Whack.

"Professor!" the Deputy Head Mistress cried.

Dumbledore looked up. "Yes?"

"Why don't you try to be less…physical…"

"Ah, yes…right." Dumbledore straightened, hands on hips. "Potter."

Harry cringed.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore held out the still smoking piece of parchment, with the name: **_Harry Podder_** scrawled on it. It smelled faintly of pickles.

"I don't know, Professor…" Harry wheezed as he carefully got to his feet. "I didn't enter the Tournament—"

"Excuse me, sirs." Hermione suddenly appeared in the doorway, clutching the Headmaster's boom box, a tape and a bright smile.

She quickly set the boom box down and press play. Harry's voice began to play. "_Yes, I could find a way to enter no matter how, there's nothing in the world that would stop me from submitting my name to the Goblet of Fire for the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts school of Witch Craft and Wizardry…"_

The tape began to skip.

"—_nothing in the world that would stop me…To prove, I am a loser! I am a loser! I AM A LOSER! End quote—spoken by Harry Potter._"

Dumbledore turned back to facing Harry. "Well, boy? What do you have to say to yourself? This is slightly incriminating."

Off in the corner, Moody was suddenly attacked with a fit of giggles.

Snape, billowing cape, clashing thunder, opera music, and all, stepped forward from the shadows. "Perhaps Potter was simply framed…but then again, Potter has always had a knack for bending the rules to his wishes…"

Moody began to choke on his own spit.

"Zis is aragous! Zem one vanted to give 'Ogwarts two bites of ze apple!" Madame Maxime huffed in righteous anger.

"I quite agree, my dear Madame!" Karkaroff managed the anger pretty easily but didn't quite reach righteousness. "Every school then should have two Champions!"

Moody, coughing, stepped up. "Now hold on just a minute. The Goblet of Fire was probably fooled into believing there were four schools, the Goblet was simply confused. That's powerful magic, and not Hogwarts' fault."

"Oh?" Karkaroff rounded on the Professor. "You seem to have a good knowledge on this, perhaps you had something to do with it?"

"Yes." Pause. "What are you talking about! I'm merely stating a possibility! If you recall, I'm required to think like Dark Wizards, I—" He suddenly fell silent, then turned to look at Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was unsticking two lemon drops. He looked up. "Yes?"

Moody coughed again. "Well, this is the part you tell me to stop."

Dumbledore smiled child-like. "Oh no, carry on."

"Yes…well…Dark Wizards…er…" He looked about helplessly. "KARKAROFF'S A DEATHEATER!"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, calling order. "Yes, yes. We can all guess and speculate, but why don't we ask the judges? Barty?"

Everyone now turned to Bartemus Crouch and Ludo Bagman, who abruptly appeared when they were needed, and often disappeared when they weren't.

Ludo grinned grandly, accepting a lemon drop from Albus. "I bet you Crouch can tell you."

"Yes, that's what I said—"

"YOU'RE ON!"

"The contract is binding, any person who enters the Tournament must compete, and once the Fire flames out, it won't relight until the next Tournament starts." Crouch informed them, his mustache twitching. Moody started to noticeably convulse. Crouch narrowed his Hitler eyes. "You know, I had a son who did that…but…no…"

As one, everyone slowly bent to look into the Great Hall and stare at the Goblet of Fire.

The flames were still burning high and mighty—there was a splash and Dumbledore reappeared with an empty water can in his hands.

"The fire is gone! Let the games begin!"

* * *

_**Later that night in the Headmaster's Office…**_

"Albus! You can't possibly let the boy compete! It's too dangerous for Potter! The boy is delicate!"

Albus Dumbledore sighed, leaning over a glowing blue Pensive in the darkened room. "Dark times are ahead of us…"

"What? Just like this room?" Snape was searching the desk for candles.

"I didn't pay the electric bill!" Dumbledore snapped. "Anyways, now this conveys our dark and somber mood…death foreshadows Harry as he enters this year…"

Snape snorted. "Yeah I know, just like the last three years. You'd think Voldemort would've knocked him out by now…"

"In these dangerous times we must—"

There was a loud clanging noise and the sound of someone falling down. Snape cursed. "YOU MEAN DANEROUS LIKE STANDING IN A ROOM WITH NO LIGHTS?"

"SEVERUS, WOULD LET ME MONOLOUGE? PLEASE?"

Silence.

"Thank you. As I was _saying_…In these dark and dangerous times we must be prepared of what's to come…" The Headmaster slowly lifted his wand to his head and extracted a long silvery strand, then flicked it into the Pensive. An image of Harry picking his nose swam into view, before slowly fading into nothing.

Dumbledore straightened, grinning lopsided. "There!" he giggled as he pointed at Snape. "You're scary!" He giggled some more then continued. "Now that my memory is stored, we can carry on!" He inspected his hands, turning them over and over. "Whoa…"

"Stored?" Minerva looked towards him sharply. "Don't you mean copied? So that you can go back and review it?"

"COPIED?" Dumbledore giggled, then repeated the word four more times. "Course, not. The memory's total gone from my brain! Teehee."

McGonagall hesitantly looked over at the Pensive, so full the memories it was almost spilling over. "Well this certainly explains a lot."

"LEMON DROP?"

* * *

**_Siriusly_**


	32. Like Fireworks…But With Eyebrows

Hey readers, That Loser is getting spell checked and edited in depth for the first time in…well…forever! If you're one of those people that cringes every time you see a grammar mistake, check out the NEW AND IMPROVED chapters, without grammar or spelling mistakes!...probably. And, as for the rest of you that don't really care, read on. Though I can't guarantee any mistakes in this one.

I hop me speellings' rite!

NOTE TO NONSPANISH SPEAKING READERS: Hombre Peligroso means Dangerous Man. It'll make sense later in the chapter. Trust me, just read it.

That Loser

**Chapter 32: Like Fireworks…But With Eyebrows**

There was an awkward silence as Harry and Cedric made their way back to their respective common rooms. Harry stared at the floor through a swelled left eye, limping slowly from Dumbledore's insane beatings. Cedric swung pensively from tree to tree.

"So, Potter, you're a champion then."

"I guess so."

"So…did you cheat and put your name in?"

Harry shrugged. "No, I wouldn't have misspelled my own name!" A paper floated from his pocket.

**Barry Yachter... Gary Blotter... Parry Hotter... Larry Rotter... The Pot**

Cedric raised an eyebrow.

Harry thought this was cool, so he raised both eyebrows.

Cedric blinked. "Uh…"

Harry giggled. "Wow, that was so cool!"

"What?"

"That thing you did just now. It was like a fireworks show…but with eyebrows!"

Cedric frowned. "I just raised an eyebrow."

"What…in shock and alarm?"

Cedric shrugged. "Nah, more in confusion and mild surprise."

Harry nodded sagely. "This eyebrow thing is really complicated. Kind of like spelling my name."

Cedric frowned. "But, Harry's kind of an easy name to spell."

Harry felt his ears go red. "No it's not! Just because you're name's CEDRIC, you think you're so special! I mean, 'Cedric'? What kind of name is that, anyways?"

"It's Scandinavian!"

"Sounds like hedgehog."

"It does not!"

Harry pondered this for a moment. "Your right…but it does sound like Pedric!"

Cedric raised an eyebrow in moderate confusion. "So?"

Harry was doing an unflattering imitation of Cedric, wearing a matching leopard leotard. "_Hi, my name's PEDRIC. It's Scandinavian."_

"Shut up!"

"_My Tarzan outfit makes me feel dainty." _

"SHUT UP! My name isn't the point. The point is, Harry's a really easy thing to remember."

Harry raised his eyebrows, then giggled. "Is it? I dunno, I get so confused. You see, I have this cousin, Jerry Spotter, and he goes to Bogsnorts in Wingland. He has these two friends named Don Weasels (he's famous. He's the Glove King!) and Permione Ranger and this really mean guy in his class named Maco Dalfoy, and his two lackeys Grab and Coil. He's got this evil Dark Lord after him named Moldevort that throws moldy sandwiches at him sometimes, but other than that, he's pretty cool."

Cedric's eyebrow twitched.

Harry brightened. "Hey, good one!"

"Um…thanks. Do you and…Jerry…talk often?"

Harry waved a hand. "Oh, sure. He's cool, debonair, and smart with devilishly good looks and all, but he can get annoying sometimes. He's always brooding and complaining about his George Washington profile burn. And now he won't shut up about some girl named Jo." Harry sighed. "Wow…I wish my life was like that…"

Cedric coughed. "Harry, your life is like that. That's exactly the same as your life, but the names are switched around."

Harry blinked at him. "Is this a Tarzan thing?"

Cedric glared. "No."

Cedric and Harry went back to swinging through the trees/limping pitifully down the hallway in awkward silence.

"Hey…where'd the trees come from?"

* * *

When Harry finally entered the common room, most of the other Gryffindors had gone to bed. Harry had been expecting some sort of party to celebrate his entry into the contest, but the Common Room was empty and dead as Hedwig and Robert combined. But with less fur…and feathers.

Harry couldn't understand why no one had waited up for him. After all, whether the whole business was infinitely shady or not, he was going to risk his life in the name of magical tradition, honor, and free entertainment!

Suddenly he understood. Of course! They were throwing him a surprise party! Everyone was probably hiding behind something, and they were going to wait until he was about to go upstairs, then they'd all jump out of a cake or something and yell SURPRISE! Harry could hardly contain his excitement.

He proceeded to look behind every desk, chair, and stationary object for signs of his party, but couldn't find anything.

He shrugged. "They must have all have died." This seemed acceptable to Harry, since this sort of thing happened a lot to him.

He climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitories and finally collapsed onto his bed, exhausted. Ron, who was the only other person awake, glared at him.

"You're pants are wet." Ron said.

Harry blushed. "Oh, yeah. I couldn't contain my excitement."

"About the tournament, I suppose! I mean, I can see why you didn't tell Hermione how you did it, she'd totally rat you out to Dumbledore, but why didn't you tell me? I'm your best friend, right?"

Harry blinked at him. "You're my only friend."

Ron nodded forcefully. "Exactly! You could have at least told me so I could enter too!"

"I thought you didn't want to enter!"

Ron shrugged. "I didn't, but now I see that this would be an excellent opportunity to impress Murk!"

Harry sighed. "Look, I didn't put my name in the cup! I don't know who put it in, but someone else did. It wasn't me! I don't want fame!"

Ron sneered. "Oh, right, when pig's fly!"

Pigwidgeon hooted happily and fluttered madly above Ron's head.

"The point is," Ron continued, "you just wanted all the attention again, because I was starting to be more important since I'm Boot King now, admit it!"

"Ron, I'm not the one that wants attention and fame, really I have enough of it already. _They won't leave me alone!_" Harry pointed to outside the window. A first year girl's face suddenly filled the window.

"I LOVE YOU HARRY!"

She snapped a picture and retreated into the darkness.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Who're they?"

Harry was distracted for a second by Ron's eyebrow gymnastics. "What? Oh. Fan club."

Ron face turned red. "Well, I bet I could have had a fan club too if you'd told me how to get into the tournament!"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. You're nowhere near cool enough. You've got to have style."

Ron cleared his throat and pointed to Harry's wet pants.

"Oh well…even after wetting my pants…I mean falling into a puddle…I've still got more style that you!" Harry shouted.

Ron turned deadly white.

"**_BEEP _**off." Ron frowned. "Bloody **_BEEP_**! What the **_BEEP_** was that? Who's got the **_BEEP BEEP _**Inappropriate Material Censorship Button!"

Hermione jumped out from behind Harry's bed. "Ronald, you can't say things like that on film! This movie is PG!"

"No, it's okay Hermione; they upped the rating to PG-13."

Hermione smiled. "Oh, all right then. Carry on."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What did you say to me?"

Ron glowered. "You heard me. I said beep off."

"Beep off?"

Ron blushed. "Doesn't a guy have the right to say beep in the privacy of his own boarding school dorm room anymore!"

Harry smirked. "What, afraid your mommy will punish you if you say a bad word Ickle Ronny?"

Ron's lip trembled. "Meat cleaver."

"What?"

"If mum catches you cursing she'll cut your arm off."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No really she cut my left arm off once."

Harry shrugged. "Actually, I was just doing that thing with my eyebrow that Cedric taught me, but…doesn't that mean that you wouldn't have an left arm?"

"I don't."

Ron sniffed and itched his nose with his left hand. "But I suppose you care more about your fancy new tournament buddies than your armless best friend!"

Harry was confused again, and Ron was still angry, so they both turned and stared at opposite walls.

Harry felt bad for a minute and wanted to make up with Ron. Instead he wiggled his eyebrows up and down, then felt much better.

* * *

The next day, Dumbledore was having difficulty unsticking two particularly troublesome lemon drops, so he cancelled classes for the day.

Harry, without Ron, felt a little lost. He wandered the grounds, trying to find someone to hang out with, but couldn't find anyone. So he hung out with Neville by the lake. Harry was feeling sorry for himself, as Neville explained to him a fascinating new book Moody had given him.

"And there's this thing called gillyweed. Oh, it's really cool Harry! If you eat it you can breathe underwater for about one hour! Which would be a perfect amount of time for one of the tournament challenges! Which could be held in the lake. It'd be great. The underwater one wouldn't be first though, there'd have to be something else, like a dragon or something. Then maybe the gillyweed…then some sort of maze…"

Harry zoned out on Neville's trivial chatter, and was about to go back to feeling sorry for himself, and doing some general brooding and sulking. After all, there had to be someone out there that was cooler than Neville and wanted to hang out with Harry.

He then noticed Hermione and Ron walking towards him.

"Hi Hermione…and Ron."

Hermione had a pained expression on her face. "Um…Ron told me to tell you that Parvati said that Dean told her that Voldemort told Ron to say that you're a right foul git."

Harry frowned. "What?"

Hermione squinted. "Oh, wait. I think I messed that up. No. Oh, wait, I've got it! Ron told me, to tell you, that Parvati said that Dean told her that Colin and the fan club heard that Draco said that Hagrid's looking for you."

Harry snorted. "Draco said that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well…mostly…"

"Why should I believe Draco?"

"Oh…" Hermione squinted in thought again. "Maybe it wasn't Draco. Oh, no. Draco said the right foul git part, and Voldemort said that Hagrid's looking for you."

Harry brightened, "Oh, that's all right then! But…what did Ron say again?"

"I think he said the right foul git part too."

Harry glared. "Oh yeah? Well you can tell Ronald that he's…even more of a right foul git! And…and he's ugly too!"

Hermione held up a finger, then said in a mechanical drone. "Please leave your message after the beep."

Harry waited.

_**BEEP!**_

"Ron, you're even more of a foul git, and you're ugly too!"

Hermione blinked.

Harry looked confused. "Is that all?"

"Well, hang up!"

Harry, confused, held up a noose questioningly.

Hermione sighed. "Never mind." She shrugged, and walked over to Ron. "Hey, Harry says that you're even more of a right foul git and that you're ugly and that you should not go into Hogsmeade with Hermione and get her a butterbeer and talk with her about your feelings."

Ron's face reddened. "Oh yeah, well tell Harry that he's even more of a fouler git and he's more ugly, and that I'm going to take Hermione to Hogsmeade and get her a butterbeer and talk with her about my feelings, and I'M GOING TO ENJOY IT!"

Hermione smiled and delivered the message to Harry. "Ron says you're a fouler git and more ugly, and that you shouldn't go do your homework."

"OH, YEAH, WELL WATCH ME! IN YOUR FACE, RON!"

* * *

After completing his homework to spite Ron, Harry got a brilliant idea. He didn't have these very often, so he was quite proud of it. Right after the fight, but before homework, Harry had bet Ludo Bagman that more people like him better than Ron. He also bet Ludo Bagman that the sky was blue, grass was green, fichuses are evil, and his middle name is James.

So, with poll and clipboard in hand, Harry set out to see who people liked better: The Famous Harry Blotter…Knotter…Plotter…Dotter…Water? Or Ron Weasley, Boot King. His first stop was the Slytherin common room.

"So, tell me Goyle, who do you like better. Me or Ron?"

Goyle blinked slowly. "No like. I smash!"

"No! NO! I mean…um…who do you hate more. Me or Ron?"

Goyle blinked. "You. I smash!"

After a brief stop to Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary, and another vote in Ron's favor, Harry sulked down the corridor, asking everyone he saw.

"Hey, Johnson, who do you hate more, me or Ron?"

"FIRE!"

"No, who do you hate?"

"Little fire?"

"Hobo, who do you—"

"I SERVE THE HOLDER OF THE IMMORTAL BOOT, THE KING OF BOOTS, THE RULER WHOSE BOOTS I AM UNWORTHY TO BUCKLE OR LIKEWISE UNBUCKLE!"

"Nevermind."

Giggle. "Boots is gooooood."

"Hey Ch…ch…chchch...CHO! CHO! CHO! DO YOU LIKE ME? YOU'RE EYEBROWS ARE HOT! HOW DO YOU GET THEM TO GROW TOGETHER LIKE THAT? I BET YOU COULD EVEN DO THE WAVE WITH EYEBROWS LIKE THAT, ONLY NOT WITH PEOPLE, WITH HAIR!"

Another stop to Madame Pomfrey, and another vote later, Harry was trying a new angle.

"Professor Snape, who do you hate more? Me or Ron?"

Snape sneered. "Well, that would be a difficult question, considering I would rather be boiled alive in acid while having my soul ripped out through my mouth and have my beating heart plucked out of my chest by a Dementor while wild Hippogriffs nibble on my intestines like finger sandwiches THAN BE IN THE SAME ROOM WITH EITHER ONE OF YOU!" Snape huffed for breath, his face red, and his black cape billowing ridiculously.

Harry nodded. "Okay, okay…but who do you hate MORE?"

Madame Pomfrey was very busy that afternoon.

While walking down an abandoned hallway, Harry heard hushed voices and the occasional giggle from behind a closed door. Harry knocked politely, and readied his clipboard.

The door opened a crack.

"Hello, I was just wondering who you hated m—"

A hand shot out and grabbed his robes, pulling him inside the dark room and slamming the door behind him.

Harry blinked. "Oh."

The entire room was full of girls…and Colin Creevy…wearing I LOVE HARRY t-shirts.

Ginny smiled. "We're the Harry Potter fan club. We worship your bravery, intelligence, and gorgeousness."

Everyone in the room was wearing bifocals.

Colin snapped a picture quickly. "We don't see to good, but our love for you shines brighter than a thousand suns." He suddenly blushed. "I…I wrote a poem for you."

Ginny elbowed him aside. "_I _wrote a poem for you."

The first year girl that was in the window last night jumped up. "Me too!"

They all began at once, fighting to scream over each other. The end product was a little…odd.

"—Your eyes are greener than pickled frogs and your face—"

"—Makes my shoulder dislocate —"

"—How I pine to hear your musical voice and—"

"—Gentle call of 'MOVE IT, FIRST YEAR!' Oh, your—"

"—glasses remind me of my own and—"

"—often I get weak kneed. Your ears make me—"

"—break out in hives because I—"

"—know you're so powerful even if you look like—"

"—A loser, but I don't believe them, you look—"

"—As good as a chocolate cake, and as—"

"—Smart too—"

"WE LOVE YOU!"

Harry wasn't sure whether to cry or laugh, but he didn't have much time to do either, as he was immediately mobbed by a frantic group of fans. Harry managed to squeeze out of Ginny's head lock and stumble out of the door.

Harry, with his glasses askew and his shirt torn, sniffed in satisfaction. "That's fifty for I HATE RON MORE. Check."

Next was Hagrid's hut. Harry knocked on the door.

Hagrid threw open the door. "HARRY! YOU DO CARE!" And, for the second time in one day, Harry was dragged into a dark room by the front of his robes as the door slammed behind him.

Hagrid beamed. "So, how are yer?"

Harry squinted at Hagrid suspiciously. "You're not going to try to read me poetry, are you?"

Hagrid looked hurt. "Well, I did write this poem about the anguish of lost friendship and betrayal, but I won't be needin' that anymore!"

"Are yer excited about a new year of Care of Magical Creatures?"

Harry smiled nervously. "Yeah…so excited."

Hagrid beamed.

Harry strained to remember what Hermione had told him. "So, Hermione told me that Ron said that Parvati told Dean that the fan club heard that Voldemort said that you were looking for me?"

Hagrid blinked. "Wha—?"

Harry nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

Hagrid shook his head. "No, I wasn't lookin' fer yer. Oh, though I did hear Seamus say somethin' ter Professor Sprout about Lavender overhearing that Susan Bones and Cho Chang were talking about how Ginny and the fan club were lookin' fer yer."

Harry nodded. "Oh, so it was the fan club that was looking for me."

Hagrid chortled at Harry's bedraggled appearance. "And it looks like they found yer. Had a rough day, have yer?"

Harry nodded. "I'm taking this survey to find out who people hate more, Ron or me. Now that I mention it…who do you hate more?"

"Uh…THE FIRST CHALLENGE IS DRAGONS! THERE'S A COMMON WELSH GREEN, A CHINESE FIREBALL, A SWEDISH SHORT SNORT, AND THAT VICIOUS HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL! IT'S TRUE, IT'S ALL TRUE!"

Harry blinked, then rushed out of the hut.

Hagrid shook his head. "I shouldn't have told yer that. I shouldn't have told yer…"

* * *

The next week went mostly without change, except with Dumbledore's new reinstitution of the Bathroom Token, Infirmary Token, etc, things were much more expensive. Ron hadn't been able to afford a Shower Token the whole week. For once, Harry was glad they weren't speaking to each other, because anyone in speaking distance tended to pass out from the stench. Even so, Harry stayed downwind whenever Ron was within 100 feet. Ron did the same for Harry, but for different reasons. Harry's week went a bit like this:

**Monday**: Attacked by Blast-Ended Skrewts

(cost of hospitalization: 10 sickles)

**Tuesday**: Annoyed in Herbology by Neville going on about practical uses for gillyweed and mobbed after class by fan club

(cost to replace torn shirt and buy a pair of earmuffs: 20 sickles)

**Wednesday**: Counseling session with Voldemort and Professor Trelawney

(cost of tissues for crying Dark Lord: 10 sickles…he used a lot)

**Thursday**: Take shower to wash off acid Professor Snape "accidentally" hurled halfway across the classroom into Harry's face, then later attended mandatory opera _Hombre Peligroso _preformed by Snape, labeled as 'fine arts education'

(cost of Shower Token: 3 knuts, cost of theatre tickets: 2 sickles)

**Friday**: Get face re-stitched on after the acid accident and fall into large mud puddle created by Ron in Charms. Not that he'd intended to do it; he'd actually been trying to turn his mouse into an infectious disease that would make Harry break out in hives…but mud worked.

(cost of hospitalization: 10 sickles, Laundry Token: 5 knuts)

**TOTAL**:

(Regaining Lost Dignity: Priceless)

* * *

It was Friday, and Harry was wandering aimlessly around the Hogwarts grounds. There was Hermione and Ron. Just Hermione and Ron, since no one wanted to get too close to Ron's stench. Hermione was wearing a gas mask, but you could still tell that the fumes were getting to her. The skipping and cartwheels was a sure indicator.

There was Cedric, swinging from the trees, followed by his friends, admirers, minstrels, squirrels, fichuses, suicidal women, and general Cedric Fan Club members.

Harry was starting to feel lonely. Maybe if he climbed in a tree too, people would like him again! So Harry pulled himself up into the branches of a tall oak, and nearly had a heart attack.

"Hullo Harry."

"PROFESSOR!" Harry jumped a few inches off of the branch. "Oh, whew, I'm sorry. You just scared me."

"It's the lemon drops."

Harry frowned, his eyebrows snapped together. "What?"

Dumbledore brightened. "Hey, nice one!"

Harry smiled. "Oh, thanks. I've been practicing. This using your eyebrows thing should be a sport! I can do Surprised, Shocked, Angry, Itchy, an impression of my beloved's beautiful brows, Disbelieving, Saddened, Happy, and Confused…I do that one a lot."

Dumbledore sighed. "No one seems to understand the amazing skill it takes to master the art of communication using eyebrows."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know!" He glanced over at Ron and Hermione. "My friends don't seem to care. Well, at least they used to be my friends…"

"Oh, Harry! You'll work it out, you always do. Well, after all, you'll have to. Who else would be friends with you? Lemon drop?" He patted Harry on the shoulder.

Harry sniffled. "No thanks, but thanks for trying to cheer me up…now I'm really depressed."

"Your welcome," said Dumbledore vacantly.

Neville suddenly walked past. "Harry? Hey Harry! I want to tell you more about gillyweed! It's really awesome, and really useful!" He stopped underneath Harry's tree. "Harry? Harry, where are you?"

Harry inched higher into the tree. "On second thought, can I have that lemon drop?"

Dumbledore smiled and wagged his eyebrows up and down.

"Nice one!"

_**

* * *

**_

_**Oddly**_


	33. Willow and Duck

(Siriusly gingerly settles herself down on the computer chair and turns towards the keyboard. Her elbow bumps a bookcase and she screams as her arm rubs against the wood. Winching, she prepares to type, pauses, itches a mosquito bite, and screams again as her frantic scratching infuriates her sunburn. Looks up, notices readers, and hesitantly waves.) Ahem…yes, summer, a lovely time. But if you ever want to avoid those second degree burns and get out of the heat, why don't you come inside and enjoy a nice, cold, refreshing cup of That Loser?

That Loser

**Chapter 33: Willow and Duck**

A new week started for Harry, a new week full of resentful Hufflepuffs, jealous Slytherins, and _**beeped** _off Rons.

Currently, Harry was residing down in the dungeons, waiting for Potions class to begin. Hermione was standing beside him, and Ron was leaning against the opposite wall, making faces at Harry when he thought he wasn't looking.

Harry sneered, then turned slightly towards Hermione, his eyes still glaring at Ron. "Do you see that? Do you, Hermione? I mean it's PATHETIC."

Hermione rolled her eyes, finger-combing her hair. "Harry, really. You've got to learn that I really don't care anymore. You and Ron are going to have to be big boys and work it out." She tried pulling her hands out of her hair, finding that her fingers were undoubtedly stuck, hair wound around her digits. "Oh, HONESTLY!"

At that moment, Draco Malfoy and his posse strutted down to the dungeons from Slytherin's last class.

"Oi!" He pointed plainly at the dysfunctional trio. "Did I mention Granger is a Mudblood?"

The gathering Gryffindors and Slytherins rolled their eyes. "Yeah…yeah…good one Draco…superb…"

"Ah…well…" Malfoy nervously glanced around, his eyes landing on Harry. "Harry cheated his way into the Tournament!"

Silence.

"Yeah, Draco…we were there…"

"Uh…uh…" he spotted Ron. "WEASLEY'S POOR!"

No one bothered to respond to this one.

"I HATE YOU ALL!" Draco cried, slumping beside the Potion's room's doorframe, banging a fist against the wood.

The door promptly popped open, smacking Hermione in the face, as Snape peered out into the hallway to beckon the students inside.

Hermione gasped, clutching her nose, and jumped backwards away from the door. "My nose!" She cried, muffled against her hands.

The Gryffindors quickly turned their angry glares onto Malfoy, his hand still resting on the door.

"You!" Ron screeched, striding forwards, his wand out and pointing at the Slytherin.

"What?" Malfoy gasped, "You can't possible think that I—!"

Hissing and catcalls soon started as the fourth year students from opposite Houses insulted each other.

"SILENCE!" Snape billowed ominously. "What has happened here?"

"Malfoy slammed a door into Hermione's face! Look!" Ron carefully pulled Hermione's hands away from her face, exposing a bloodied nose, she whimpered softly.

"And I cursed Malfoy!" Harry adding loudly.

Draco looked up. "What? No you didn't—"

In a flash of black, gold, and red; Harry yanked Draco's arm from his body and slapped him across the face with it. Malfoy flew across the hall and slammed against the wall.

"AHHH!" Draco screamed, eyeing his now re-amputated right arm. "NOOOO! NOT AGAIN!"

Snape glared at his two bleeding students. "I don't see anything wrong."

There was silence, and the sound of someone fumbling with something inside their pocket. "Here you go sir, this might help…"

A pair of glasses was presented to him.

More silence.

"Inside." Snape hissed, "Now."

And timidly, the Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth years hurried into the classroom, while Hermione and Draco fled to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

"Will it ever be back to normal?" Hermione whispered softly as Madam Pomfrey hovered over her, her wand outstretched.

The Nurse bustled around to find her misplaced hand-mirror and turned back to the Gryffindor student. "Of course it will be, dear."

"_HELLO?_" An angry voice drifted over across the wing towards the two females. "DETACHED ARM OVER HERE."

"You'll get your turn Mr. Malfoy; you just need to be patient."

"DON'T YOU THINK MY SITUATION IS A LITTLE MORE _STRESSING?_"

The Nurse of Hogwarts rolled her eyes and whispered disdainfully, "These Slytherins these days, no respect in any of them."

Hermione gave her a 'what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it?' shrug. The Nurse resumed her treatment.

"So, it was only your nose, right?"

Hermione thought about this.

"I CAN'T FEEL MY TOES."

"Uh, there's a little more damage here…No, no, no. _Here_."

"Here, dear?" Pomfrey lowered her wand to the tip of the student's nose.

"OR FIVE OF MY FINGERS, FOR THAT MATTER."

"Farther." Hermione said.

"Here?" The wand was now pointed at her top lip.

"Farther."

"Here?"

"Yes, there."

The Nurse finished fixing up her patient.

"IS MY TONGUE SUPPOSED TO BE BLUE?"

Hermione smiled brilliantly, and jumped down off the hospital bed. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey."

"BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED, IT WASN'T."

"Calm down Mr. Malfoy! I'm coming."

* * *

Harry stormed into the Potion's classroom; Snape had taken off points from Gryffindor. He sulked in the knowledge of unfair judgment.

Once he had finished slamming his cauldron down on the desk, Harry turned quickly to his right, figuring Ron would be right beside him; their friendship healed instantaneously by Snape's typical attitude, their first conversation together holding a couple "Yeah,. Yeah! YEAH!"'s of fierce agreement.

But unfortunately, Ron, having the memory of a slightly unusual goldfish, decided to continue his silent-and-mocking treatment toward Harry.

"FINE!" Harry screamed. "IF THIS MEANS YOU THINK I'M REMEMBERING OUR FRIENDSHIP ANNIVERSARY, THEN YOU ARE SADLY MISTAKEN!"

Harry noticed Ron twitch with the lost of his Chocolate Frogs, but remained impassive, nonetheless.

"AND THE SCENTED SOAPS, TOO!"

"_Attention._" Snape hissed, his hands aloft like that of a preacher in between a passionate rant of holy damnation.

"Poisons, today." And Harry saw the flames rise ever higher—

There was a knock at the door.

"_YES?_" The Potion's Master barked, and the heavy wooden door swung inwards to reveal a scared Collin Creevy. Harry was faintly interested to see the imprint of beaver marks etched deep into the wood.

"H-harry Potter has to come to the Champions' m-meeting—"

Harry could feel himself becoming red and restless as the Professor's sneer beamed at the younger Gryffindor. Oh why did he have to go and say that?

"Mr. Potter still has a Potion's class to finish, and then he can skip down to the important gathering."

If possible, the Creevy kid was redder than he was. "H-h-harry needs to go now—the Headmaster requires—"

Snape glared. "Fine," he turned faintly towards Harry. "Potter—leave your things here, I'll test you when you get back."

Harry got up quickly, before he had to suffer anymore embarrassment; the Slytherins were already snickering softly in the background. And Ron's booming laughs were hard to hear over.

"Please, Professor—Harry needs to take his things with him…"

"MWHAHAHAHA!" a hobo had appeared, imitating his master.

Snape seethed. "FINE! Potter, take your things and go!"

Harry quickly shoved his possessions into his bag and hurdled over a table, knocking a cauldron to the ground and spilling the contents onto the floor. He could feel his sneakers sizzling and melting beneath him.

"There's going to be a Photo shoot." Creevy added helpfully. "It's going in the Daily Prophet."

"FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, COLLIN! CEASE AND DESIST!" He dragged the smaller boy by the back of his robes and threw him out of the room, following shortly.

"_MWHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

Harry opened the door to a spare classroom up on the fourth floor, inside stood the other three Champions, a photographer and a strange woman in bright purple robes, short curly platinum blonde hair, long lime green fingernails, a floating quill, speckled rhinestones glasses and clown shoes.

He quietly entered the room and attempted to side-step towards a nice dark corner, when the scary woman spotted him.

She smiled, her eyes narrowing, Harry gulped.

"You must be Harry Potter!" The woman rushed towards him, pumping his arm up and down in her unnaturally large hands. "I am Rita Skeeter, top news reporter for the Daily Prophet! May I have a word?"

Harry looked about helplessly.

"Wonderful!" She now had a hold of him by his throat. "But let's not do this so publicly…how about in here!—"

The reporter ripped open a random door and threw the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Defend-Himself in. She promptly followed.

They had entered a broom closet.

"Charming." She smiled and sat down atop a large stack of cleaning utensils.

Harry sneezed and tried to pull the spider webs put of his hair. He sat grumpily squashed into a corner as the Daily Prophet reporter opened her little handbag and extracted a piece of parchment and an acid green quill.

"Testing, testing…" She balanced the quill upright on its point on top of the paper. "…Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter…"

Harry glanced down at the parchment, the quill was writing on its own, skidding across the paper in hurried scribbles.

**_Rita Skeeter, around twenty or forty, the famous reporter of the _Daily Prophet_, has broken many social taboos and risen heroes from local hometowns…_**

"Up here, Harry." Rita Skeeter commanded, then smiled sweetly. "Harry, I'm just going to ask you a few questions about the Tournament…"

Harry nodded, then peeked back at the closed door, had she done this to every Champion?

"Wonderful!" She clapped her hands together. "Now lets get started…Harry…why did you decided to enter the Tournament?"

"Er—" Harry shifted positions; something was digging into his back. "Um…" he squirmed some more, dust fell on his head. He coughed. "I-I didn't…" He coughed again. "I don't know how my name got in the Goblet, but I didn't enter it."

She tilted her head and smiled understandingly, like she was in on some sort of secret.

"Come now, Harry. There's no reason to be afraid, you won't get into trouble. Our readers adore rebels, you know."

"But I! I…I…" Unable to find the words, Harry resorted to looking down at the quill again.

**_Harry Potter, a young girl of seven, states proudly her feelings of secretly entering the Triwizard Tournament…_**

"I am not a girl! Or am I seven years old!"

Rita smiled delicately, patting his knee. "Don't worry yourself about that, it's just a rough draft. Now, how do you think your parents would feel about you entering the Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry? Delighted? Uncaring? Constipated? Grief filled? Suicidal?"

"I didn't enter the tournament!" Harry hastily repeated, "And I don't know how'd they feel…"

"**_They'd feel worried." Harry (7) says strongly. "Yes, worried, but proud…I'd do my papa proud—I –I LOVE YOU MAMA! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME? WHY!"_**

"I AM NOT SEVEN YEARS OLD!"

At that moment, Rita's reply was cut off by the light of the cupboard door opening, revealing Dumbledore's beaming face.

"Lemon drop?"

"Dumbledore!" Rita exclaimed excitedly, stepping out of the small closet and smashing her review into her handbag. "How marvelous to see you!"

"The same to you, my dear." Dumbledore lead the two of them back into the room. "But we really must be starting, I'm afraid Snape is having a bit of a gimp problem, and I'm a bit rushed…"

Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff emerged following the group towards the other champions.

"Ov dear," Maxime lifted a breathless hand to her bosom. "I 'ope 't is not serivous?"

Dumbledore laughed politely. "Oh, nothing too bad; he just needs to pay the electric bill, that's all, too many secret meeting, well what can you do?"

Harry quickly joined the group of Champions as the remaining Judges appeared to inform them of their task at hand.

"Weighing of the Wands." Olivander stepped forward out of the crowd. "Your wands must be checked to see if they're acceptable for use."

Harry paled; it was that strange shopkeeper again.

"Vikor Krum!"

The Durmstrang student stomped up to the peculiar man and presented his wand.

"Ahhh…yes, not one of my creations, a little thicker than I would usually make…but to each his own, I guess, even if they are inferior wands…Yes, yes…sturdy, nine inches…Willow and duck!" He exclaimed.

Krum frowned, his low brows scrunching together. "Vat ees not so, et ees Dragunhearf string…"

Olivander rolled his eyes and gave the wand a lazy wave, producing a flock of birds. "No, my dear boy, it's willow and duck; you'll have to trust me on this."

Harry could see Krum about to protest again, but the wand expert quickly shoved his wand back into his hands and pronounced: "Fleur Delacour!"

The pretty French floated forwards idly handing off her wand.

"Ah, another second-best wand…but that's okay my dear," Olivander was patting her hand at this point. "I suppose not everybody can have my wands…yes, as I was saying…hmmm…" He turned her wand over three times, examining it. "Bendy…thirteen inches, and, well how strange…willow and duck."

Fleur glared at the little man. "Eez not villow an duck! Et contains an 'air from ze 'ead of a veela; one of my grandmuzzer's!"

Olivander rolled his eyes again, gave the wand a flick and a bunch of flowers burst from its tip, then gave both the wand and the flowers to the half veela. "Veela hair…I'm sure…Well, let's see…Cedric Diggory!"

Fleur glided back to her seat as Cedric passed her.

"Finally! A proper wand!" Olivander said with much enthusiasm. "Well! What a trend this is turning out to be! One of my own…why yes, I remember it, contains a single feather from the tail of a duck…that duck was almost seven feet tall, almost got wattled to death…yes, twelve and a half inches, willow. Beautiful wand…I trust you polish it every single night?"

Cedric nodded, slightly confused. "Yes…but sir, its ash, and contains a unicorn hair…"

Olivander waved him off, not quit listening, then sent a stream of smoke rings out of its end and handed it back to the Hufflepuff.

"Glad to see you take care of it, now it's…oh, Mr. Pooter."

Harry slowly got to his feet and padded over towards the Wand Keeper. As he gave him his wand, Harry wished desperately that he wouldn't say anything about the whole Voldemort issue…

"Ah yes!" Olivander exclaimed excitedly. "Voldemort's brother wand!"

Harry gasped and swiftly looked around…no one was listening. Not even Dumbledore. No one much caredfor the loser boy.

"Yes, that was one evil duck,…and I got poison ivy from the willow tree…I'm not quite sure you are worthy of this wand Loser Boy, but we'll see …Polish it every night?'

"Uh…no?"

There was the sound of a scream and everyone quickly began rushing away from him.

"Harry!" Cedric hissed. "It was in the manual! How could you not follow it!"

Billowing clouds gathered outside, thundering and lightning, the rain pounding on the glass windows. Harry hesitantly turned towards Olivander as the lights began to flicker.

There was a strange distant look in Olivander's eyes as he stared at the Gryffindor.

* * *

"Ok, everyone! Pictures!" Bozo the camera man announced, lining the Champions and Judges up.

Harry crossed his arms and grumbled, trying to hide behind the huge shape of Madame Maxime, but Rita Skeeter kept trying to pull him out in front. It didn't make it any better that everyone was still laughing at him. Dumbledore, in fact, was pointing rather noticeably.

Once the photos were done, Harry hurriedly darted out of the classroom and ran as fast as he could back to the Common Room.

As the Fat Lady's Portrait opened, Harry was halted by the appearance of Hermione. She gave him one look and burst into giggles.

"W-what happened to you?" _Giggle. Giggle._

Harry knew she was eyeing his third ear and fifth eyebrow. He scratched at the horn protruding out of his head, trying not to blush.

"I forgot to polish my wand."

* * *

**_Siriusly _**


	34. CEDRIC FLUSHES THE POTTY!

WELCOME BACK! You guys threw a party just for me? I mean, like, wow! You guys are great! You shouldn't have, you really…uh…hello?

NOTE TO READERS: Thanks for being patient, and since you've all been sooo good, and since the last chapter was so short, this chapter is going to be kind of long. Enjoy four to five more extra special pages of That Loser.

That Loser

**Chapter 34: CEDRIC FLUSHES THE POTTY!!!**

Harry hugged his books tightly to his chest and stared at the ground. "Just keep walking," he told himself. "Whatever you do, don't look at the badges, just don't loo—" Harry, while looking down, had not noticed a large wall directly in front of him, and ran right into it.

Harry tried to pick himself up off of the ground. "STUPID WALL!" He shouted at the brickwork. He mumbled a bit to himself. "Moves in front of me every time…"

A rough hand suddenly pushed him back down onto the floor. "HEY POTTER, YOU STINK!" A green badge was shoved in his face. It had been like this for a few days. Now, not only was everyone taunting him openly, but now they were wearing badges too. And after Cho had started wearing one, then it was a sudden fad and everyone had to have one. Oh Cho, she looked so beautiful as she snorted in derogatory laughter…at him. All kinds of other badges were showing up recently too, most of them with a desperately cheerful number of exclamation points. Harry looked around as a colorful cornucopia of insults flashed past his eyes.

**POTTER STINKS!!!**

**POTTER HAS A HIGHLY OFFENSIVE ODOR!!!!!!!**

Harry teared up. "Hermione, not you too!"

Hermione looked embarrassed, trying to cover her **POTTER HAS A HIGHLY OFFENSIVE ODOR **badge. "Well…the peer pressure…and…the colors…and…I'M JUST TRYING TO FIT IN!" She suddenly looked excited. "Oh, I'm perfecting my Normal Girl Dialogue."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to talk like a normal person! Here, what do you think?' She cleared her throat and spoke with exaggerated care. "On this very fine day, I decided to go for a stroll. I passed a gazebo—"

"What's a gazebo?" asked Harry, interrupting.

Hermione sighed. "What'd you mean, what's a gazebo? Everybody knows what a gazebo is."

Harry blinked. "I don't."

"Well, you know, it's kind of like a mini pavilion."

"What's a pavilion? Do you mean a pagoda?" Harry held up a watercolor picture of a pagoda temple.

Hermione frowned. "No, I don't mean a pagoda! And where did you get that?"

"So are there monks involved in this gazebo thing, like with pagodas? Monks scare me. I mean, they're totally bald!" Harry laughed nervously.

"No, there are no monks involved!"

He shook his head, chuckling. "Bald, bald, bald."

"Are you even listening?" Hermione glared. "I mean, I was trying to show you my Normal Girl Dialogue, and I hadn't even got to the good part yet where I talk about tea, crumpets, and a healthy game of croquet…"

Harry was still deep in thought. "I dunno, 'gazebo' sounds pretty foreign to me."

"Never mind, forget the whole pavilion-pagoda thing."

Harry blinked. "Forget it?"

"Right."

"Forget what?"

"Forget that…never mind, er…well done." She coughed. "Now about gazeboes, they don't serve any purpose really—"

"—like for hair-challenged monks—" interrupted Harry cheerfully.

"I mean…like…gazeboes are there to improve the scenery and things like that. They look nice."

"So, have I ever seen one?"

She shrugged. "Probably, they're practically on every street corner in cities with parks and nice landscaping."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They're sort of closed, they have a roof, and they've got benches to sit on…"

Harry smiled knowingly. "No, you're thinking of bus stops."

"No, not bus stops! Gazeboes!"

"Pagodas?" He held up the picture again.

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

Harry crossed his arms. "As long as I'm not a monk!"

"I know, because they're bald, right?" Hermione sighed.

"No, because they have to take a vow of silence."

She frowned. "Wait, are we talking about mimes or monks? And I thought you said…"

Harry's eyes opened wide. "SHHH!!! No talking. Vow of silence, remember? You're a really bad monk."

"I'm not a…"

"Don't make me stop this pagoda, mister!"

Hermione shouted. "It's gazebo!" then murmured quietly as an afterthought. "And I'm not a man."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "What's a gazebo?"

Hermione stalked off in a huff. Harry shrugged. Monks and their crazy ideas! What had he been doing? Oh yeah, the buttons. Wait…he hadn't seen that one before!

**CEDRIC FLUSHES THE POTTY!!**

Cedric, also seeing the badge, blushed. "Of course I flush the toilet! What are you suggesting?! My mama brought me up right, I'll let you know! I've even got a potty song to help me remember to flush." Cedric's expression suddenly changed. "Uh…now that you mention it…" He quickly ran into the men's restroom.

The smiles on the faces of Cedric's fans now looked a little forced.

"Uh, yeah!" Someone cheered weakly.

There was an embarrassed silence.

Which was suddenly broken by a flushing sound coming from the bathroom.

"Ha! And I flushed it too!"

"Well," said a Cedric supporter, thinking hard, "Potter's a cheater!"

"YEAH!"

Harry sighed, weaving around the jeering onlookers, and pushing away the badges being shoved in his face.

**CEDRIC 'MOPS' UP THE COMPETITION!**

**THE POT'S ON POT!!!**

Harry suddenly threw down a joint. "Hermione, you _told them?!_"

**POTTER LOVES MOPS!!!!!**

Harry gasped. "So, it's not a crime! If it's wrong to love a mop in a special way, then slap some cuffs on me copper, CAUSE I'M GUILTY! Oh…sorry officer, I didn't mean it. I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"

* * *

The police officer unlocked Harry's handcuffs and pushed him back into the Hogwarts courtyard. "Next time, think before you light up!"

"Crack Is Wack," recited Harry dutifully. But secretly, he smiled. They thought they had his stash, but little did they know he had planted a whole new crop on Dumbledore's golf course. Harry blinked. "So, this wasn't about the mops then?"

The police officer shook his head and left.

Harry cheered and took out his mop, ready to show the world his love, when another badge was shoved in his face.

**WELL…POTTER'S UGLY!!!!!!!!**

Harry sighed. "Hello Malfoy."

"Ha! How does it feel, eh Potter? Having the whole school hate you?" Draco was sitting in a tree above Harry's head.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're copying Cedric too?"

He turned red. "I am not!"

Harry sighed. "So then you're wearing the Tarzan outfit because…?"

Draco looked around nervously. "Well…I…uh…I just can't help it! I mean, he's so cool!"

"Even with the whole flushing the toilet thing?"

Draco nodded. "Oh, yeah, totally. Look." He pointed to a mob of Cedric's groupies, who were now wearing toilet shaped hats bearing the legend **CEDRIC CARES ABOUT SANITATION!!!!! **Each hat had a little enchanted silver lever that made a flushing sound when pulled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, this is pathetic! Why can't I have fans like that?"

"Because, Potter, you're a disgrace. I bet your parents took one look at you and died. No way were they going to stick around to take responsibility for a mess like you!" Malfoy smiled as Harry's face turned bright red. Harry suddenly closed his eyes and mumbled something to himself. He seemed to be counting to ten.

When Harry opened his eyes, he felt calm again. "Sorry, Malfoy. Another day I'll beat in your face for that. Today, I've got better things to do." He turned his back on Malfoy and strolled calmly away.

Draco turned white. "Try to be more honorable than me, will he?! Malfoys are always the most honorable, you can never win, you ugly excuse for a bathroom fixture!"

Harry failed to even acknowledge him.

Draco paled further. "Oh yeah, then TAKE THIS!" He raised his wand.

When Draco looked up, a wand was pointed directly between his eyes. The low voice of Professor Moody rumbled from somewhere beyond the wand. "Cursing a man when his back is turned? Now that's what I call low."

Draco quivered. "You wouldn't hurt a guy with one arm, would you?"

A bolt of white light suddenly enveloped Draco, and he quickly shrunk before their eyes into a small white…furry thing.

"It's a mink!"

"It's a fink!"

"It's a chinchilla!"

"No, it's a ferret, you idiot!"

"It's a pagoda!"

"Go home, Potter."

Moody levitated the Draco-ferret with his wand, flinging him around his head in circles and bashing him against the tree again and again. "YOU LOW DOWN, DIRTY, SCUMMY LITTLE BRAT!"

Harry turned around and watched the scene along with the rest of the people in the courtyard. Now this was entertainment! Cedric's gang even stopped flushing long enough to watch.

Buckbeak suddenly swooped down from nowhere into the courtyard. Moody smiled evilly and dangled the ferret above her beak. "Here Buckbeak, come get a nasty, scummy…I mean, tasty little ferret!"

Buckbeak snapped playfully at the dangling ferret, then there was a crunch.

"AHHH, MY OTHER ARM!!! WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?!"

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was walking briskly down the hallway with a troublemaking first year in tow.

"Step lively now, Rutherford, we're going to the headmaster's office now, and when we get there mister _we will have words!_"

"Come on, Professor everyone was doing it. I wasn't the only one throwing the toads at Crowley, and besides, he asked for it!"

"No talking!"

"But really the little creep _asked _us to throw toads at him. He actually likes the things! When they told him he was in Ravenclaw, he said 'Thanks all the same, but I'd rather be in Toads.' Only came to Hogwarts because of the warts part. The warts! He's as bad as Harry Potter and brooms…"

"Rutherford!"

"But…!"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. She quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching. Her wand flashed once and Rutherford turned into a large brown umbrella. She smiled. "I've always needed another brown umbrella." It was then that the scene unfolding in the courtyard caught her eye. Someone was feeding a ferret to a hippogriff. The hippogriff just took off its arm. This was outrageous! Who had let a hippogriff onto the school grounds?!

"Professor Moody, get that hippogriff out of here, they aren't allowed on the school grounds since the Malfoy incident. Hmm…Malfoy. Speaking of Malfoy, have you seen him? I need another hat stand."

Moody looked guiltily at the ferret, which suddenly started screaming. "OH, MY NOSE! MY FURRY LITTLE NOSE! I CAN'T FEEL IT ANYMORE!"

Crunch.

"OW, MY FEMUR!"

"What is going on here?!" McGonagall shouted.

"THAT'S FINE JUST LEAVE ME HERE DYING…"

Moody shifted uncomfortably. "Well…"

"BLEEDING…"

She stiffened. "Is that a student?!"

"OOZING SLIGHTLY…"

"You were asking about Malfoy?"

"OOH, SPINAL FLUID!"

She glared. "I'd like to know _where_…"

Moody brightened. "…you got the notion?"

McGonagall gasped. "Honestly, Professor! Change him back! We do not ever use Transfiguration as a punishment…well…unless the kid's really being obnoxious."

Moody blinked. "Oh, my apologies, Professor." He waved his wand, and the ferret grew and changed back into a quivering, squeaking Malfoy.

"Now come with me, Malfoy. Hmmm…a mink coat, perhaps?"

Harry, meanwhile, was in the back of the crowd laughing uncontrollably. This was one of the best days of his life.

A red haired, freckled kid suddenly bumped into him. "Oh, sorry ma—wait."

Well, it had been.

Harry grimaced as he recognized Ron. "Weasley."

Ron frowned. "Seamus, would you please tell that unpleasant person that I would rather not have him soiling my name by speaking it."

Seamus grinned. "Hi Harry. Ow! I mean…Ron says—"

Harry cut Seamus off. "Soil your name? Well I don't think you could get any dirtier. Ron, open your eyes, for Merlin's sake, you're molding!"

Ron turned Weasley Red, which is kind of like Kelly Green…except that it's red. "I don't have to take this! Seamus, tell Potter that…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know, get lost. You know what Ron, stay away from me!"

Ron shrugged, "Seamus, tell Potter that I said, fine, I will." He turned on his heel and stalked off. "Hermione, you coming?"

Hermione turned up her nose to Harry. "Coming."

Harry teared up. "Hermione?"

"I'm still not over the gazebo thing." She followed Ron.

Moody suddenly appeared beside Harry. "You want me to turn him into a parking meter?"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Nah, he'd just end up liking it. He needs the extra cash, you know."

Moody put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry failed to notice Moody's sudden violent twitch. "There, there Harry. Everything will turn out all right. Mwahahahahaha! I mean…good luck with the tournament! And, I think Hagrid wanted you to follow him on his hot date tonight."

"Merlin, _why_?!"

Moody blinked. "Uh…he didn't say. To guard them against coyotes I assume. Just wear your Invisibility Cloak; it's going to be cold out tonight."

* * *

A few hours later, Harry wondered why he'd listened to Moody. He manically swatted a coyote away with a heavy stick. They had been at him like mosquitoes all night! A few feet in front of him, Hagrid and Madame Maxime were sitting on a log…a very _large_ log, very sturdy…watching the sunset and cuddling.

"You wanna go to Makeout Point?"

"Oh, 'Agrid, zat sort of thing ees for ze children…but eet does zound agreeable…"

Harry coughed from inside the bush, trying to put on his best spooky voice. "_Hagrid…"_

Hagrid's head suddenly jerked up. "Wha? Whazzat?!"

"_It's me, Hagrid."_

"Harry?"

"_No, I'm your conscience!"_

"My conscience sounds like Harry?"

"_Er…yes. Now, Hagrid, don't go to Makeout Point."_

"Don't go?"

"Right, don't go! You know your mum would hit you with a sledgehammer if she heard you were going there."

Hagrid chuckled. "Mum always was good with construction tools…"

"_Focus, Hagrid!"_

"Uh, right. Uh, Maxi?"

"Yees, 'Agrid?"

"On second thought, let's not go to Makeout Point. I've got something even better."

Harry sighed. Finally. Makeout Point was infested with coyotes! As Hagrid and Madame Maxime lumbered away, Harry followed.

"Here it is. Didn't I tell you, eh?"

"Oh, 'Agrid! Eet's 'orrible!"

Harry sighed. Oh great. Had Hagrid brought another date to the peat bogs, then? He stuck his head through the bushes to see what the fuss was about.

"_Hagrid, why don't you take her to a drive-in movie. That's much better. Waaaay more interesting than a swamp, and there's less coyot…_oh."

In front of Harry, there were four cages. But that wasn't the worst part, no matter how anti-imprisonment of helpless animals Harry was. Inside the closest cage was a huge spiked monster, tendrils of flame spilling from its open cruel mouth. Dragons!

"Zis ees ze ferst challenge?"

Hagrid nodded grimly.

The nearest dragon blew a blue flame at one of the men moving the cages. He rolled around on the ground, screaming. "THE WEASLEY CURSE UPON YOU, FOUL BEAST!"

Harry gasped; it was Ron's brother, Ulysses! Or was it Bob? Larry? Well, something like that, anyways. Ron must have known that the first challenge was dragons, and he hadn't told him!

Hagrid scowled at the dragon. "Normally I like dragons, but that Hungarian Horntail is a right foul beast."

Harry's eyes widened. He had to do something with this new knowledge that he just learned…again. He swung his branch to dispel a final rabid coyote with a satisfying thump. TO THE BATHROOM!

* * *

Harry giggled, his black magic marker squeaking against the wall of the bathroom stall. He stopped to admire his work:

**THE FIRST CHALLENGE IS LEMONS.**

Scribble, Scribble.

**THE FIRST CHALLENGE IS DRAGONS.**

Perfect. Wait, one more thing.

**POTTER STONES**

Scribble, scribble.

**POTTERROCKS**

Now, there was only one thing left to do. He quickly peeked under the door to make sure no one would see him.

_FLUSH!_

He giggled guiltily and ran out of the bathroom. Now he was cool!

* * *

After drawing some more Pro-Potter graffiti around the school, Harry relaxed unto the Common Room couch. It was late, and all the people that were taunting him and flushing their hats at him a couple of hours ago had gone to bed. It was a good thing too; he'd been getting seasick from all the flushing. He could finally read his newspaper in peace! He turned to page one and read aloud.

**_Harry Potter, a young girl of 7, had made tournament history by being elected the fourth Triwizard Champion. "I've always been a little bit of a rebel," says Harry (7) with a girlish giggle and a flip of her curly pigtails. And a rebel she is. Harry's parents were killed by You-Know-Who in a dreadful attack on Halloween fourteen years ago. "I remember their death,", she says, pouting coyly, "Voldemort was there laughing, and then they suddenly disappeared, valiantly but futilely in a flash of pink light. That's why pink's my favorite color_**!**_" Her blue…brown…green eyes filled with tears as—_**

Harry threw down the paper in disgust. He had not pouted coyly! And besides, his favorite color was Dustmop Taupe. And insult of insults, the paper even included a sound bite of high-pitched giggling. He was going to protest this! After all, how could he possibly be seven years old and remember his parents' deaths fourteen years ago? It didn't make sense!

"Psst?"

"You bet I am!" Harry snorted.

"No, _PSSST!_"

Harry looked around wildly. "Who said that?"

"Pssssst!"

He held up an overstuffed cushion accusingly. "Was it you?"

"PSSSSSSTT! HARRY POTTER! IN THE FIREPLACE!"

Harry leaned over the fireplace. Something odd was happening in the coals. In Harry's experience, this was a great time to get the heck out of there, and he was about to run when the coals suddenly rearranged themselves into the face of his beloved animagus godfather, Sirius Black.

Harry chuckled to himself. You know, if you looked at it the right way, that arrangement of coals kind of looked like Sirius. But of course if you looked at it sideways it looked like a homicidal maniac named Edmund, and upside down it looked a bit like Neville's nose.

The coal Sirius suddenly spoke. "Harry, it's me!"

"EDMUND?!"

"No! Me as in Siri…uh…Snuffles."

"SIRIUS BLACK, MY BELOVED ANIMAGUS GODFATHER! HERE YOU ARE! IN MY FIREPLACE! IN HOGWARTS! IN…where _is _Hogwarts, anyways?"

"Shhh! Harry, you can't let anyone know that I'm here!"

Harry gasped. "Oh, right."

"I sent you a letter telling you to meet me here; you did read it, didn't you?"

Harry frowned. "Uh…" He vaguely remembered receiving a letter, but folded it into a paper airplane and threw it at Ron.

"Didn't you?"

Harry shrugged. "Um…probably?"

"Great. Now Harry, tell me the truth. I've been reading a lot about you in the Daily Prophet."

"I promise, I'm not a young girl of seven!"

"No, not that. Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, or didn't you?"

"I didn't!"

Coal-Sirius nodded. "All right, I believe you. There are plenty of other explanations. There are devils inside the walls, Harry."

Harry squinted. "What?"

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall."

Harry started sweating. "What are you talking about?! Stop talking in metaphors!"

"It's Just Another Brick In the Wall…"

"STOP IT! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!"

Sirius winked conspiritally. "You know what I mean."

"No, no I don't!"

Sirius blinked. "Oh. Sorry, I forgot I was talking to _you._ I meant: Karkaroff was a Death Eater."

Harry paled. "A Death Eater, like the ones we saw at the Quidditch World Cup!"

"Right. And then there's Bartemus Crouch, heart of stone, that one. He sentenced his own son, Barty Crouch Jr., to Azkaban!"

Harry snorted, "Poor kid. He got called Little Crouch all his life—"

Sirius snorted. "Better than Big Crouch."

"—_and _got put in Azkaban. Pity." Harry shook his head mournfully.

"Just be careful, as my old friend Alastor used to say, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Ahaha, oh yes, he'd always get me with that one. Scared the crap out of me one time, and I set a slasher spell on him. Took off his finger. He thought it was funny. Oh, I hear that Old Moody's working at Hogwarts now, is he still missing a finger?"

"Uh…yeah. Limbs usually stay…missing. Unless you're Ron. NOT THAT I'M SPEAKING TO RON…OR COUNTNG HIS MISSING LIMBS…OR CARING THAT THEY'RE MISSING!"

Sirius nodded vacantly. "Good, good. Well, you need to…what's that?"

Harry looked around. A shadow twisted its way across the wall and down the spiral staircase from the dormitories. "Someone's coming down the stairs!"

Harry smashed himself against the wall in front of the fireplace, trying to look inconspicuous, yet trying to hide the decapitated head of a known murderer crackling cheerfully in the coals. It wasn't the easiest thing to do. In the end, Harry quickly put a lampshade on his head and tried to blend in.

The dark figure from the staircase stepped into the light, banishing the shadows.

Harry sighed. "Ron, what are you doing here…not that I care! All your limbs are still attached, I see."

"Hermione, please tell Harry that I live here, so I have a right to be here…and that I have no idea what he's talking about as I am clearly missing my right—"

"—left—"

"—left arm since mum cut it off when I said **_beep_**!" Ron sniffed at him indignantly.

"Hermione?"

The room remained completely silent.

"Um, Ron? Hermione's not here."

Ron frowned, flustered. "Oh. Well, then. What're _you _doing here?!"

Harry blinked. "Talking to a glowing head in the fireplace."

Ron glared. "DON'T LIE TO ME!" He snorted. "More like practicing for your next interview, I expect."

Harry glared, "No! Well, actually, yes. I wanted to ask you something. Do think, in my next interview, I should say that I'm for or against saving the whales? You know, should I suggest shaving the whales? Or bathing the whales? I mean, saving the whales is nice and all, but will it make me look too soft and unmanly? I really don't want to be accused of being a young girl of seven again."

Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry, who was wearing a pink beaded lampshade as a hat. "No, I don't think that'll be a problem."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Harry, for Merlin's sake, you're wearing teddy bear footie pajamas!"

Harry blushed, "They remind me of my parents! I had a pair just like them when I was a baby."

Ron smiled evilly. "Ha! You're forgetting that we were once best friends. You _told _me you wore them because you liked the teddy bears!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but realized there was nothing to say. "Well…well just get out of here, I'm…uh…talking to Sirius right now."

Ron glanced around Harry, "Is Sirius here?"

"THIS IS MY OWN SIRIUS PROBLEM, SO JUST GO AWAY!"

"Did someone say my name?" a voice echoed from the fireplace.

Ron glared. "Fine. G'night Sirius, and goodbye Harry." He stomped off.

"Good night!" Sirius called from the fireplace.

"Shut up, Sirius."

"Hey, is that any way to talk to your godfather?"

Harry sighed. "I didn't mean it. Ron and I are just having some…issues right now."

Sirius shrugged as well as a head without shoulders can shrug. "You want me to make 'im an offer 'e can't refuse?"

"No, I'm fine, really. Just…just go away." He threw the horrible giggling newspaper into the fire and trudged up to bed.

"Hmmm…not a bad picture. The pink bow's a nice touch."

* * *

The next day, Harry was stomping across the Hogwarts grounds towards Cedric Diggory. He'd had it up to here with people flushing at him, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. It was all Cedric's fault, of course. The Scandinavian fiend! There he was, swing from a tree and laughing above the loud sound of rushing water.

"Cedric, I need to talk to you!"

Cedric's groupies laughed. "Ooh, the Potty's back!"

Cedric smiled, embarrassed. "Um, sure Harry."

"Yeah, Flush 'im good, Ced!"

"FLUSH! FLUSH! FLUSH!"

"Okay Johnson, that's enough."

"Little flush?"

Harry followed Cedric behind a tree and out of earshot from his friends.

Harry sighed, "Look, about the toilet hats…"

Cedric nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'm really sorry about that. I told them to stop, but you know, groupies will be groupies." He chuckled good-naturedly and flushed his own **CEDRIC CARES ABOUT SANITATION: FLUSH THE POTTY!!! **Hat. "Personally, I just like the flushing sound. It soothes me."

Harry was not amused. "Yeah, sure. I just wanted to tell you to…you know…well…it's kind of like last night when I saw the dragons for the challenge, I was like…"

Cedric gasped, "The first challenge is dragons?! Wow, Harry, thanks a lot, you're a great guy! I've got to go find the perfect spell. Flush you later, Potter!" He waved and ran off in the direction of the library.

Hagrid, who was suddenly walking by, shook his head at Harry. "Yeh shouldn't have told 'im that…shouldn't have told 'im…" Hagrid wandered away.

Harry sighed. "Now what do I do? I totally blew it. And I didn't get them to stop flushing at me!"

"I'll say!" A large hand, minus one finger, was placed on Harry's shoulder.

"Professor Moody!"

Moody nodded. "I saw the whole thing. That was a good thing you did lad, but a really stupid move if you want to win this competition. Come to my office, we'll have a cup of tea."

Harry shrugged, "Thanks, but I'm not really that fond of—"

Moody grabbed him by the back of the robe and dragged him away.

"Oh…okay, tea's fine, then."

* * *

Later, in Moody's office, Harry stared dully at his cup of green tea. Moody took a gulp from his hip flask and offered Harry a cookie. "Harry, my girl, I think you need to—"

Harry interrupted. "Boy, actually."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm a boy."

Moody looked surprised. "Oh, but I read about you in the newspaper, and I just assumed…ah well, never mind then. The point is, I think for this challenge that you need to play to your strengths."

Harry looked worried. "Oh. But, Professor Moody, I'm not very strong! I can't lift weights; I can't play sports other than Quidditch of course, which doesn't require much physical prowess. I mean, the _broom_ is doing all the real work. Professor, even Hermione is buffer than me! It must be all the book-lifting…"

Moody laughed uncertainly, "Harry, that's not exactly what I mean. You should use the things that you do best to help you win."

Harry brightened. "Oh, that's all right. Then sign me up for the Speed Mopping challenge!"

"No, Harry I mean, I think you should think of things that will help you with your next challenge…WHICH IS DRAGONS! Oh my goodness, did I say that out loud?" Moody gasped in feigned shock and surprise.

Harry shrugged, "Oh, its okay Professor, I already know about that."

"Well, at least you managed to do something right. Listen Harry, this is important. To win this competition, you'll need more than Speed Mopping. You can bet your fellow Champions will be ready. By the time Cedric Diggory was your age, he could bewitch a teakettle to dance a jig and whistle you the time!"

"What? Why would he want to do that?" Harry folded his arms. "I don't see the big deal. Mopping, now that's useful! **POTTER MOPS UP THE COMPETITION!!!!** Wouldn't that make a great button?"

"If you could find anyone to wear it…" Moody mumbled.

"What was that?"

Moody coughed. "I said: What about Fleur Delacour, then? Don't be fooled, she's as much a fairy princess as I am!"

Harry gasped and whipped off a quick curtsy, "Your majesty!"

Moody scowled. "Cut it out! Hey, where'd this tiara come from? Anyways, there's still Krum. Now, he might not be the brightest, but Karkaroff's no dumb cookie."

Harry frowned. "But cookies don't…"

Moody cut him off. "Don't even get started, Pooter, I'm on a roll. Your parents were that way to, always talking, talking until the end. Well, we showed them! Mwaha…erm, yes. Back to Krum. You can be sure Karkaroff will find a way to tip the scales in his favor."

Harry nodded, "Yep, those Death Eaters sure love their cookies."

Moody stopped munching his cookie immediately. "Uh…sure. Now, think Harry! What can help you, what are you good at? You mentioned it earlier. You know! Quidditch…brooms…flying? Dragons fly, and if you could fly, then maybe you would have an advantage…"

Harry gasped. "You're so right! I should build a flying machine out of last week's homework, thumbtacks, and an umbrella named Rutherford! Then, I could—"

Moody sighed. "Oh, for Merlin's sake. YOUR WAND, HARRY! USE YOUR WAND TO SUMMON YOUR BROOM SO YOU CAN FLY AND BEAT THE DRAGON!"

There was a pause. Moody was panting hard and scowling, daring Harry to say something stupid.

Harry blinked. "So do I get my teakettle now?"

* * *

"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!" Harry jogged to keep up as Hermione trotted briskly across the courtyard to the library. "Hermione, I need your help!"

She sighed. "FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S NOT A BUS STOP!"

Harry chuckled, "While I still disagree with your narrow-minded opinion, that's not what I'm here to talk about. Look, Hermione, I know what the first challenge is, and I need someone to teach me how to summon my broom to the arena!"

Hermione smiled. "Wow, did you figure that out all by yourself?"

Harry shrugged, looking back on the last three hours Moody had spend cementing the idea into Harry's empty head. It was like trying to fill a bottomless pit with…well…cement. "Pretty much."

Hermione sighed. "Well, I guess we still are friends, and I do want to see you do well in the competition. All right, I'll find the spell you need."

Harry settled himself at a dusty library table while Hermione ran a finger along a row of equally dusty tomes.

"Here it is: Obscure Spellcasting. This book can tell you absolutely anything!"

Harry nodded, "Oh, so this is where you get all those weird spells. I mean, who would possibly know a spell for getting a raisin out of someone's nose without reading it somewhere?"

Hermione smiled lovingly, patting the book's worn cover. "This book has everything, and it can certainly tell you how to summon something."

Harry rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Great, so let's get started!"

"Okay, here it is. Summoning."

**To summon an object, say the spell _Accio _and then state SPECIFICALLY, the object you want to summon. For example, don't just state _Accio grenade, _or every grenade in the world will become magnetically, magically, and in this case fatally, attracted to you. If you want a specific grenade, say _Accio reader's name here's grenade with pin still attached and not in a state of explosion. _**

Harry blinked. "Is that all?"

"I think so. Do you know what you need to do?"

Harry smiled. "Of course! _Accio grenad-_"

Hermione slapped her hand over his mouth. "Now how did I know you were going to do that?"

* * *

_**Oddly**_


	35. Harry’s Manifesto

Is it just me, or does anyone miss Ron and his stupid moments? I miss writing him.

That Loser

**Chapter 35: Harry's Manifesto **

Harry frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, his tongue stuck out to one side. His quill scratched noisily on the huge roll of parchment as he sat concentrating at one of the study tables in the Gryffindor Common Room. Or the GCR pad as the boys had affectionately named it.

_**Sssciit, sccit, sccit.**_

"Harry?"

_**SSSccccit, scit, scit.**_

"Harry."

_**SQUEAKY. SQUEAKY. SQUEAKY.**_

"Oi, MopBoy."

Harry quickly looked up gasping, "SHHHH!" he sprayed Hermione in spit. "No ones supposed to know about that! I'll never be promoted to El Lupo's sidekick if you go blabbing my secret identity!"

Hermione attempted to dry her face with Crookshanks's back. "We've been over this, you are not a superhero. And MopBoy is a sissy name."

Harry sulked, crossing his arms. "You're just jealous you couldn't get anyone to call you HogwartsStudentWhoCaresAboutHerSurroundingsAndIsHorrifiedAtTheBarbaricTreatmentOfTheKindCreaturesThatAreHouseElvesEvenIfTheirUseOfThirdPersonIsFreakyAndThey'reFunToKickButICareReally-GirlAdolesentWhichIsATeenagerThereForAYoungAdultILOVERON-Woman."

Hermione glared at him. "Those stupid media-zombies just don't appreciate the good I could do."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry turned back to his paper.

_**SQUEAKY. SQUEAKY. SQUEAKY.**_

"WOULD YOU JUST STOP?"

Harry sighed, throwing his hands up. "I have to finish this Hermione! It's imperative!"

"The First Task is in two days, what's so important that it's stopped you from practicing _Accio_?"

"I already learned _Accio_—"

"DON'T YOU LIE TO ME, HARRY JAMES POTTER. I SAW THE SUPERGLUE ON YOUR HAND, YOU CAN'T FOOL ME."

He blushed.

"So get off your butt and practice!"

"I can't!" Harry whined, stamping his foot and causing the table to jump, sending his ink bottle soaring and splattering onto some First Year's rabbit. The small girl began to cry. "There's a very tiny chance that I won't come back alive—only a slim fraction of a fraction of a chance, but even so…I must finish my Manifesto before I face the Task!"

Hermione stared at him blankly. "Your what?"

"My Manifesto!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"It's very important to me!"

"You can't _write_!"

Harry paused. "This is true, usually I have Ron help me—did you read his Deer Murk letter, by the way? Brilliant! That is, if he wasn't such a complete wanker—so I've been having the help of Tooth Fairy instead."

Hermione couldn't quite make out any of his blabbering. "_What_."

Harry nodded gravely, then leaned towards her whispering. "_She sees you when you're sleeping_."

Hermione eyed him silently.

"_And knows when you're awake_."

"I'm not totally sure what you're talking about Harry, but that's Santa Claus."

Harry gasped once again. "Blasphemy! You better be careful Hermione, or you'll get coal under your pillow!"

"Harry, I think you're mixing up two _fictional_ characters—"

"Silence!" Harry screamed, looking around hurriedly. "I've seen what she can do with pliers! _Don't. Provoke. Her._"

Hermione slowly shut her mouth and settled back into her seat, coughing. "Well, yes. Um." She gave Harry a Look. "What's this Manifesto about anyways?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You're writing it! The whole point of a manifesto is to focus on a topic!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Hermy. Lighten up. Tomorrow is a brand new day!"

"And the day after that is the First Task! And that phrase had no relevance to anything we've just said!"

Harry rolled his eyes again, waving his hands in front of him mockingly. "Ohhhh, big word! It doesn't help the fact that YOU'RE UGLY!" He'd learned that one from Malfoy.

Hermione steamed. "…That had nothing to do with any—uh! Grrr!!! HU!" She quickly jumped to her feet. "Fine! Finish your Manifesto! But don't come crying to me when you've been eaten by a dragon!" And she stormed up to her dorm.

"SOME SMART PERSON YOU ARE!" Harry screamed at her back. "EVERYBODY KNOWS I'D BE DEAD THEN AND YOU CAN'T TALK TO DEAD PEOPLE! Jeez, I don't see what McGonagall sees in her…"

* * *

**Harry Pooter (scribble, scribble) POTTER's Manifesto **

**A Guideline of being in the Public Eye.**

The next morning Hermione wandered down the Girls Staircase quietly, meeting Harry at the bottom.

"Did you send me this?" She asked softly, holding up a crazily folded piece of paper with a bad stick figure of a fairy with a tooth wand, elf shoes, and big white beard. In shaky crayon, the words:**_ iT's OK I blaMe RN _**were spelled out. "It's very good," She added, "You only forgot the 'o' in 'Ron'."

**Number 1: Exude intelligence.**

Harry snapped his fingers, screwing up his face in anger. "STUPID HARRY! STUPID VOWELS! WHO USES VOWELS ANYWAY? THEY THINK THEY'RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE! WELL, 'O' AND YOU TOO 'A'! YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN 'P'! Okay…maybe 'p'…BUT YOU HAVE NOTHING ON 'S'! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE CLOSER TO THE BEGINNING DOESN'T MAKE YOU COOLER! LOOK A 'Z'! HE'S HARDLY USED, AND HE'S STILL KIND AND CONSIDERATE! TAKE IT LIKE A _MAN_ 'A'! AND YOU TOO 'O'!"

Hermione was still holding up the deformed card. "You done now?"

Harry nodded stiffly. "Those two needed to be taken down a peg…"

"Yeah…So want to go down to breakfast? Then we can practice that _Accio_ spell afterwards."

"For what."

Hermione paused at the portrait. "For the…First Task…"

Harry blinked.

"The dragons…"

He blinked again.

"The evil monster shapes."

**Number 2: Always articulate.**

"Oh right!" Harry laughed. "Right, right, right…the whole 'Potter Stinks!' 'No I don't!' 'Flush the Potty!' 'Stop making fun of me!' 'Potter cheated!' 'NO I DIDN'T!' 'Look! Now he's crying!' '(SOB) LEAVE ME ALONE!' 'laughter, cackles, thrown toilet plungers…" Harry turned to face her, now with tears streaming down his face. "I just want to be accepted! WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME!?"

Hermione quickly proceeded ahead. Harry jogged to keep up with her.

"IT'S THE ROBES, ISN'T IT? SHOULD I GET A TARZAN CLOTH? BUY A TREE? HIRE A MONKEY?"

Hermione pushed open the Great Hall doors. "Why look, Harry!" she exclaimed in an excited tremble. "Food! And no more picketing signs today!"

**Number 3: Have supporters.**

"That's because we stayed late at his bashing party last night and forgot to make them." Mentioned a passing sixth year Ravenclaw.

Harry sniffed, tears welling up in his eyes, then hunched and stomped over towards the Gryffindor Table, slamming his head down and crying into the bacon.

"Hey!" Alicia cried angrily, "I was going to eat that!"

Hermione hesitantly followed him and gingerly sat down beside him, picking up a piece of toast and reaching for the _Daily Prophet_.

Harry looked up momentarily, glared at Hermione's lack of reaction to his misery and resolved to bawl louder.

She silently turned a page.

He increased his volume.

She munched on the toast.

He pounded his fists onto the tabletop.

She delicately coughed into her hand.

"FINE!" Harry snapped his head up. "You unfeeling witch! How can you sit there reading the newspaper _when I'm having an emotional breakdown?_"

Hermione calmly turned another page. "Harry, I answered this yesterday when you where complaining at Ron for not noticing you."

Harry turned up his nose. "I don't _complain_. Ron is too beneath me to notice—Oi! Look! There's the bugger now! Stupid redheaded fool! I wish he'd just trip and _die_..."

Hermione looked over her shoulder as Ron entered the room.

"—_Dieeeeeeee…_"

**Number 4: Choose your friends wisely.**

Ron took one look at Harry and turned to snub him, successfully tripping over a second year.

"—_iiiieeeee_..."

"That's enough, Harry."

He stopped, turning away from Ron and back to the table, moodily chomping into a bagel.

Minutes passed silently…

"Well," Hermione stood up from the table, brushing her hands together. "We better go start practicing now, with you this could take all day."

"What?"

"You have natural talent and I'd hate to see you waste it."

"Oh, okay."

* * *

"Hermione, don't you think we've been at this enough?" Harry asked her wearily, six hours later and encased in a mound of random objects.

"Not until you get it right!"

"But I've _tried_ a thousand times!"

"Try again!" She shrieked.

Harry groaned, then held his wand aloft and cleared his throat. "_Asso!_"

"_ACCIO!_" Hermione screeched. "It's _Accio!_ And it works like this!" She chucked a large red dictionary at Harry's face; it bounced off his nose and landed in the pile with the other random objects.

"WOULD YOU STOP DOING THAT?" Harry screamed, holding his nose. "You don't have to demonstrate it _every single time!_"

**Number 5: Always know when to ask for help.**

Hermione answered by throwing a paperweight at him.

"I CURSE YOU IN THE NAME OF THE TOOTH FAIRY!"

A quill stuck into his ear.

"IN ALL THAT IS HOLY! MOPS WILL _CRUMBLE_ IN YOUR VERY PRESENCE!"

Hermione ran out of objects to aim at Harry. "You had better practice Harry! Because there's nothing else I can do for you!" And with that finally warning she stormed out of the unused classroom, slamming the door behind her.

"HOW ABOUT DIGGING ME OUT OF HERE?"

* * *

The day of the first task dawned cheerful and sunny, birds sang in the sky and Neville pranced down the hallways.

Harry gloomily slouched at the breakfast table. Hermione wouldn't speak to him. And Ron was laughing loudly and pointing in his direction.

He wished he knew why.

"Champions, make your way to the stadium." Professor McGonagall had stood up addressing the Hall. "The Judges will be there momentarily to explain your task."

Harry rose to his feet; someone threw an egg at him.

Yoke dripped off his ear as Harry and the other Champions stalked out of the Great Hall.

"Yeah! Go Cedric! YOU'RE SO PRETTY YOU HAVE TO WIN!"

"Marry me French-girl-whose-name-I-can't-pronounce!"

"CEDRIC FLUSHES THE POTTY!"

**Number 6: Have good enemies **

"YEAH? WELL…POTTER'S UGLY!"

"I LOVE YOU MURK!"

"Ron, sit down."

* * *

In the mountains that had grown in over the summer, the teachers had built a huge stadium to display the student's acts of embarrassment and stupidity in the tasks. Next to the stadium was a small tent, which inside hosted the four nervous Champions.

Cedric was hanging upside down from a tree branch, patting a monkey.

Fleur was applying another layer of lipstick, her shaky hand causing trails of bright pink up around her eyebrows.

Krum was hunched over in one of the dark corners of the tent, glowering at his shoes.

**Number 7: Never overdo appearances. **

And Harry, Harry was tying on his red cape.

"Psst?"

"Not yet." Harry commented idly, checking his pants.

"PSST!"

Harry turned, looking at the wall of the tent flap.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

"Yes!" Came her hurried and whispered reply.

"I thought you were mad at me."

"Oh, I still am, mixing up a pagoda with a monk is still pretty infuriating…but Harry. Oh, Harry, I'm worried about you."

Harry mentally had a flash back to his and Hermione's conversation in his first year when they had separated in Snape's Challenge Room below the trapdoor. "What? Really?"

"Y—es…" Outside, Hermione shifted uncomfortably as the movie producers pushed the gun harder up against her back. "I've always…cared…" She coughed loudly. "…about…toast." _Click._ "You! I mean, you!"

Harry frowned; this didn't quite tally up…

**Number 8: Have a notable love-life. **

Suddenly Hermione burst threw the tent flap, enveloping Harry in a hug. "_Quick, Warner Brothers are pushing for a Harry/Hermione relationship! Save me!" _She hissed frantically into his ear. "_Be careful or they'll find you too—!"_

A tall man in black stepped out from behind the tent, holding a small revolver. "Now kiss and make up." He growled.

Hermione's face twisted in a look of horror. Harry gagged.

"HUZZAH!" A middle-aged woman with blonde hair charged out of no where, jumping on the huge man in black and beating him across the head with a large green book titled: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. "You can't do this!" she screeched. "I have author's rights! _I have author's rights!"_

The tall man quickly scurried away, the woman turned to face the two shell-shocked Hogwarts students. "Now come on, Hermione, dear. Let's go find Ron…" She grabbed a hold of Hermione's hand and began dragging her away.

"What? No! Not the mold! _The moooollllddd..." _

And the two girls disappeared.

"Well," Harry turned back around to face the other occupants in the room. "That was odd."

"Champions! Gather round!" The three headmasters, Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman entered the tent. "It's time to see what is in store for you today!"

**Number 9: When in superior knowledge, don't let on.**

"DRAGONS!" Harry reflectively screamed. They stared at him. "Uh, I mean…zucchini, anyone?"

"Don't mind if I do," Madam Maxime, withdrew a long green vegetable from within her robes and stuffed it whole into her mouth.

They turned to stare at her.

"'o don worri aboot ma'" She mumbled through her stuffed mouth. "Iz havin cheeks like zes hamster!"

"Bet you a galleon you can't do that again!" Ludo held out another one.

Crouch abruptly coughed nosily. "Perhaps later, gentlemen…let's get on with this, shall we?"

"Iz not a man." The Beauxbaton's matron glared between mouthfuls of green mush.

"Yeah. Sure…"

"Mr. Diggory!" Crouch announced, thrusting the bag towards him. "Put your hand inside there and draw out one object, this is the monster you will be facing today."

Cedric dropped down from his tree and straightened his loincloth, then put his hand in the bag and drew out…a dress?

"Ah, yes! You'll be wearing the red evening gown… oh wait, wrong bag…silly me! That's for the pagent…"

He quickly switched bags, "Now let's try that again…"

Cedric did.

"Ah, yes!" Crouch nodded, "You will be facing the fluffy-kitten dragon, feared by all crickets in Australia!"

Cedric backed back into his position in the circle, the small purple fluffy dragon rubbing up against his finger and purring.

"Ladies, next…" Crouch now offered the bag to Fleur. Hesitantly, she too pulled out…some sort of dragon…

"The Chinese Firefly!" Crouch exclaimed, excited. "Some people say this dragon is more related to bugs, but don't let that four inch body fool you!"

He turned once again towards another Champion, "Krum, you're next!"

The Bulgarian boy walked duck-footed over to the Judge and inserted his large hand, he too pulled out a dragon.

"The supposedly 'Harmless' Frogger Toothless Dragon! Up to four feet! OHHHH!" He mooed animatedly near the Seeker's face. "OOOOOHHHHHH!"

"And last and least!" Crouch shoved the almost empty bag under Harry's nose. "Loser, pick something."

Harry glared, reaching in and extracting…

**Number 10: Be fair.**

"The Hungarian Horntail." Crouch replied tonelessly.

"Za 'ittle boy got zes easy one!" Fleur gasped angrily.

* * *

"Hello and Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to another somewhat hundred year annual Triwizard Tournament! I am your host, Martha Glenning, and let's turn our attentions to the proceedings, shall we?" A young witch with a short blonde pixie haircut and a head-microphone smiled at the crowds, she had on a bright purple jacket with the three schools' logos on the breast.

"Now let's turn towards the Stadium for the Lighting of the Torch of Friendship."

Two figures entered the stadium, one carrying a small torch.

"These two are the Head Boy and Girl of the Hosting School." Martha provided.

The Head Boy and Head Girl made it to the middle, where the huge Torch of Friendship laid, they both walked up the steps…a gust of wind blew out the torch the Head Boy was carrying.

"This could be a problem, ladies and gentlemen…"

A figure dashed from the sidelines carrying another lit torch, he handed it off and the couple continued. They moved up the steps and made it to the top…the small torch went out away.

Another figure raced onto the field. Handed it to the Head Boy and raced off. But just as he leaned down to light it…the torch fell from his hands, hitting the ground and going out.

"MERLIN'S BEARD! _USE MAGIC!_" Someone screeched from the crowd.

The Head Girl blushed, and raised her wand. The Torch of Friendship was alit and blazing.

**Number 11: Show school sprit.**

"YEAH!" The Head Boy yelled, beside the Friendship icon and made a rude gesture. "SUCK IT, DURMSTRANG!"

Martha smiled at the crowd, continuing her introduction. "Today undergoes the first task of this tournament, a sort of tag-like game involving a dragon and a golden egg!" She paused, listening to an unknown voice in her ear. "Ah, but before we can begin, a few items must be cleared up; so instead lets introduce our first guest, a crowd member named Johnson!" She turned to the chair beside her, where sat a blonde haired man with bright eyes and a huge grin. "Welcome and thank you for coming today, Johnson; what do you make out of all this excitement?"

Johnson didn't even glance at her, his eye twitched.

The interviewer smiled nervously, causing glances between her guest and the large crowd. "Um, Johnson?"

"I like fire."

"…"

His eyes gleamed. "FIRE!"

"And…what do you have to say about the event today?"

"_Burn…_"

"JOHNSON!" A voice off the set called out. "What are you doing?" An Auror in blue robes jumped into view and began trying to drag the guest away. "I'm sorry about this ma'am, I only left him alone for second…_would you like some nice dried-frog pills, Johnson? You'd like that wouldn't you?_"

"Fire?" Johnson questioned as they moved away from Martha.

"No."

"Little fire?"

"_No._"

A few seconds passed, Martha stared at the empty chair, then rapidly came to her senses. "Yes…um." She looked about herself frantically, then her sight landed on the huge logo on the impromptu wall behind her. "The event isn't quite prepared yet, but let me turn your attention to the large logo behind me! As you can see, the three connected rings each stand for a separate school competing…" She trailed off, staring at the logo, then quickly jumped out of her seat, grabbing a hammer.

"_Stupid cheap ministry!"_ she growled, hammering away at the logo, which boasted five entwined rings, instead of three. _"Forced to 'acquire' used prompts…"_ She hammered harder at the two extra rings on bottom. _"Making me look bad…" _The huge fastened logo sudden slipped off the wall, crushing the host underneath it.

Silence.

"Ahh…it appears that the program is ready to start now…let's all turn to take a look..."

* * *

Cedric and Fleur had already gone, done their turn. Krum was in the process of completing it and Harry was pacing inside, trying not to think about it.

"But the gumming doesn't even faze him!" Ludo Bagman's voice screamed over the crowd. "And now he's swooping down…and the egg is his! Ladies and gentlemen, Krum has captured the Golden Egg! PHILIP YOU OWE ME 20 GALLEONS!"

Harry's insides were twisting, he was next, and he couldn't remember the spell…

Moody popped his head inside the tent. "_Accio!"_

Oh, Hermione was right! He should have practiced it more! What was it!

"_Accio!" _Moody hissed again.

If only she was here now…

**Number 12: Knowledge is Power**

"_ACCIO! _YOU STUPID AND COMPLETE LOSER!"

"Harry."

He spun around, Dumbledore had his hand on his shoulder, and in his other was a lollipop.

"Are you ready?"

"I—I think so…"

"Good, good. Don't worry about anything, whatever happens people will still be impressed that you tried."

"BRING OUT THE LOSER!" Voices catcalled from outside the tent. "LET'S SEE HOW GOOD THE CHEATER IS NOW! I HOPE YOU WET YOUR PANTS!"

The Headmaster's face remained impassive.

"Uh…"

"And Harry, I'm rooting for you." Dumbledore informed him.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What's that badge on your chest for, then?"

**Number 13: Surround yourself with good mentors**

"What? This?" the professor glanced down at his **POTTER HAS A HIGHLY OFFENSIVE ODOR! **Badge. "Oh, it's nothing…just keeping with the latest trends…all that stuff…" He looked awkward, gave Harry once last pat, then quickly rode away on his yellow tricycle.

"WHHEEE!"

"And now, the last Triwizard Champion, Harry Potter!" Ludo's voice announced, and Harry stepped out of the tent and into the sunlight.

* * *

The crowds jeered at him as he made an appearance, rocky landscape filled the stadium and the Hungarian Horntail sat in the middle, menacing at him.

**Number 14: Confidence is key.**

Harry attempted to take a step forward and tripped over his cape. Resulting in Harry flailing to the ground and receiving a bloody nose. He began to cry.

"Oh! And Potter takes his first injury! He'll be counted off for that!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed over him.

Harry jumped to his feet, it was now or never. Raising his arm, his wand aloft…Harry forgot the spell.

"IT'S _ACCIO!_" Hermione's voice echoed down from the stands.

"Pagoda?" Harry questioned.

"_Accio!_ Potter!" Professor Moody drilled from the sidelines. "_Accio!_"

Harry's knees trembled as the dragon took one glance at him, gave a reptilian laugh and advanced towards him. A thousand badges flashed **POTTER STINKS** from the stands.

**Number 15: Be able to get out of Highly Dangerous jams. **

"NEVER FEAR! EL LUPO IS HERE! DUN! DUN! DUN! _DUUUN!_"

Harry whirled around, a man in blue tights with full moons and stars leapt into the stadium next to Harry. His mustache and small black mask gleamed, shellacked.

**Number 16: Have worthy teachers.**

"_Professor Lupin?_"

"_Quiet, Harry, I'm trying to save your sorry butt."_

"YES, MOPBOY! TIS I! THE CHOCOLATE HERO OF JUSTICE!"

Harry's red cape waved in the wind.

El Lupo, hands on hips, turned towards him. "HERE, FAITHFUL SIDEKICK, YOU'LL BE NEEDING THIS." And he presented Harry with a mop.

**Number 17: Support your country.**

"MY WORK HERE IS DONE!" El Lupo struck a pose. "BE SAFE, EVERYONE AND SUPPORT THE AMERICAN WA—THE BRITISH WAY!" A puff of smoke appeared, cleared, and then El Lupo raced off the field. "TO THE QUEEN!"

Harry, now with a new determination, mounted the mop.

"NO HARRY! YOU IDIOT! THAT'S A MOP! IT CAN'T FLY!"

But Hermione's voice was a mere whisper as Harry pushed off the ground, jumped and fell, off the small cliff he was standing, Up, down, down, far away…Then up! The powerful will of JUSTICE enabling him to float in the air.

The dragon, now mad because it had no red-headed men or loser boys to eat, snapped its chain and chased after Harry. So Harry did the only logical thing there was to do. He raced towards the castle.

There was silence in the crowds.

"Well now what are we going to do?"

More silence.

"Go Fish, anyone?"

"I BET YOU I'LL WIN!"

* * *

Some dramatic moments, including the Harry Potter Soundtrack, and cuts and scrapes, busted towers, and holes in various places of the roof, Harry slowly returned to the stadium, missing an earlobe.

Dumbledore frowned, lowering his binoculars. "Darn it, now we'll have to get another castle!"

Professor McGonagall too lowered her binoculars. "Oh, I think a little patching here and there, and it'll be alright."

**Number 18: Be in safe surroundings.**

"The whole roof of the Great Hall is missing!"

"The Great Hall roof has always been missing, Albus."

Dumbledore displayed some wildly shifty eyes. "Uh…but the funding?"

"Went to your not-so-secret mini golf course." McGonagall finished.

"Uh…Hey, look! Time to judge Harry!" And with that he jumped out of his seat and rushed down towards the other Judges.

Dumbledore arrived on the sidelines, standing next to the other Judges, Harry stood in front of them, clutching his Golden Egg and mop.

Madam Maxine gave her wand a flick, a giant number **_2_** twisted into the air.

Headmaster Karkaroff followed, a giant number **_1_** floating next to the Headmistress's

Professor Dumbledore next added his own score, a **_3_** joining the others.

Ludo Bagman quickly shot up a **_10_**, looking anxiously at the corner of the sidelines where a group of lepercauns had gathered.

And last, Mr. Crouch admitted his final judging, the giant number**_ 2_** hovering in the air.

Harry opened his mouth in disbelief…he had come in last place? How could that be…?

"HUZZAH!" Bounding out of the crowds, that blonde-haired woman from earlier, who had dragged Hermione away, approached them. She gathered the Judges together in a circle, whispering fiercely to them.

Phrase from their conversation floated past Harry's ears. Stuff like "…in the interest of the plot…" and "…author's rights…"

**Number 19: Be able to sway opinions **

After five minutes of hissed conversation, and contemplation, the Judges turned back to Harry. And to his surprise, he received a new score.

_**9, 7, 9, 10, 8.**_

He couldn't believe it, he was in the lead!

"And ending the day, a big shocker for everyone, Harry Potter had completed the First Task in first place! Who knows what will happen in upcoming tasks? Stay tuned! This is Martha Glennings, signing off."

**Number 20: Don't be a loser.**

* * *

_**Siriusly**_


	36. Coffee Machine

NOTE TO READERS: The phrase 'A machine for turning coffee into—' isn't mine. I read it in one of Scott Westerfield's novels and couldn't resist applying it to That Loser.

That Loser

**Chapter 36: Coffee Machine**

The night of the challenge, Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindors gathered in the Common Room for a celebratory party. Well…Harry and Hermione were there for the party anyways…everyone else just happened to live there.

The room was also full of camera crews, their lenses trained on Harry as he picked his nose with what looked like the glow of scientific discovery.

"So what's the clue for the next challenge?" Hermione asked, looking nervously over her shoulder at the cameras. "And why do these people keep following you around?"

Harry's finger remained planted firmly in one nostril. "I dunno about the challenge, but I'm not concerned. Did you see how I handled that dragon? The cameras have been following me ever since. I've got mad skills! Did you see my moves?!"

Hermione coughed, "You mean the one where you tripped over your own cape, the one where the dragon bit off half of your earlobe, or the one where you cried like a little girl in front of thousands of people?"

"All of them! Wasn't I great?" Harry's nostril excavation hit pay dirt. "Aha! I've got you now!" He carefully wiped a moist finger on a handy cameraman's shirt.

Hermione sighed, "I was thinking of a different word…but great works too."

A Styrofoam cup was thrust into Harry's hand by one of the cameramen. "And we start in five, four, three, two, one. You're on kid."

Harry smiled hugely. "And it's all thanks to my wonderful sponsors, Mister Coffee's Café! The best cup 'o java your retirement fund can buy!®" He broke out into song.

**Oh!**

**I just a Mister Coffee machine**

**And I don't work for nobody but you!**

Harry took a sip out of a Styrofoam cup in his hand that bore the label Mister Coffee Mug (Mister Mouth goes here). He gagged. "Ttttthhhhhhhssss 's gurd 'tuff, thhiis coffeeeeee." Harry scraped his tongue thoughtfully with a napkin while the camera crews packed up and left. "Tastes like rubber."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "I personally am morally against coffee."

"How can you be morally against coffee? Coffee has the ethical decision-making ability of a soggy potato. Or Ron. About the same, really."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, coffee is the tool that the Man uses to keep us down!"

Harry frowned in confusion. "The Man?"

Hermione's eyes took on a fevered glaze. "The big corporations! The common cubicle man today is a machine for turning well-placed coffee breaks into extra hours of overtime and profits for the company. It's a conspiracy!"

Harry grinned. "Whereas the common cubicle man is a machine for turning coffee into productivity, I am a machine for turning coffee into mind bendingly awesome moves!"

"And pants wetting," muttered Hermione.

"Anyways, here's the clue for the next challenge." Harry held an oblong golden egg above his head and shouted to the crowded Common Room. "WHO WANTS ME TO OPEN IT?!"

"No one Potter, sit down."

Harry laughed, "Oh, okay. Thanks, I was great, wasn't I?" He carefully opened the egg. Immediately a horrible screeching filled the room.

"POTTER!"

"Turn it off!"

Harry quickly wrenched the egg shut. "What could it mean?"

"The next challenge is who can make the most annoying sound."

"FIRE!"

"Take your pills, Johnson."

"Chinese water torture!"

"Rope climbing!"

"Spelunking!"

"Invasive heart surgery!"

"Fencing!"

"Conga line!"

"Mop races!"

Everyone turned to stare at Harry.

"Well…a guy can dream, can't he?"

"Or maybe you have to dive with mermaids!" piped up one scrawny first year. He immediately shrank back at the barrage of jeers.

"Yeah, whatever mermaid boy!"

"Let's go flush him!"

As the first year was carried off kicking and screaming towards the most unpleasant bathroom experience of his life, Harry laughed.

"Never fear, good people. I'm a machine for turning coffee into great ideas! Hmmm…I bet its bomb disarming…"

Someone behind Harry cleared their throat.

Harry turned around to see Ron standing there, looking sheepish. "Hey mate."

"Oh, so now I'm your _mate _again, now am I?!"

Ron shrugged, "I'm sorry about the whole…fight thing. You got my apology, right?"

Harry frowned, a function he preformed quite often, as he tended to live in a constant state of confusion. "What apology?"

"You know, I told you that Seamus said that Parvati heard that Lavender and Cho thought that they might have overheard Neville saying that Ginny and the fan club said that they both swear their undying love for you and that they saw Crabbe and Goyle beating up on this first year named Rutherford, who Patti says until recently was an umbrella, who swears that he heard Susan Bones say that Hagrid was looking for you. See, Hagrid wasn't looking for you at all! It was a clever ruse which I inventeded…ed to apologize to you! Actually Hagrid was going into the woods with Madame Maxime, and I thought he might take her to see the dragons. If not, at least you'd save Hagrid from taking another date to the peat bogs to admire the beauty of thestrals and oddly colored gas bubbles," said Ron, a machine for turning coffee into long-winded explanations.

Harry took a sip of his coffee, then sprayed it at Hermione in shocked disbelief. "Really?"

Ron nodded shyly. "Really."

Harry, who had just taken another sip, spit at Hermione, showering her with steaming liquid.

"Hey! Loserboy, cut it out."

"That's Mopboy to you, citizen!"

Hermione sighed, wiping the sheen of coffee off of her forehead. "What's the difference?"

Ron smiled, "Wow, I've missed you guys! The spitting, the insults…this is where I belong! I would have come back sooner, you know, I wasn't really mad at you for the last couple weeks. I just wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me."

Hermione ducked behind a sofa as Harry, poised to spit, gasped and spit a projectile of boiling fluid that, bystanders would later say, completely switched direction and hit Hermione in the face.

"You mean that last week when you ran my mop through Hagrid's wood chipper, that you weren't really mad?"

"Nope…I just like wood chippers."

"And the time that you added extra porcupine quills into my caldron in Potions when I wasn't looking and it exploded, that you weren't mad?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope…I just like explosions."

"And the bit with the hot water?"

Ron actually blushed. "Nope…I just like doing extra laundry."

Harry's chin wobbled. "So…so are you still mad at me?"

Ron's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "Nope…I just want to be your best friend again."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's completely mental."

Ron sniffed. "Well…so are you!"

Harry was about to protest, then nodded, laughing. 'Yeah, I am, aren't I?!"

Ron nodded knowingly. "Sure are. Loony as Moony on a bad hair day."

"This calls for a manly hug!" Harry announced.

Quickly, after making sure no one would see them, Harry and Ron clapped their arms around each other, then shied apart, coughing nervously. In case you haven't noticed, the average man-hug, although both rare and totally awkward, is fascinating to watch. Both participants are trying to touch as little of each other as possible, and there is a lot of nervous coughing. Somewhere, in a far corner of the room, a camera snapped a quick shot.

"Yeah…" said Ron gruffly, "that was…uh…manly."

Harry, a machine for turning coffee into manly hugs, nodded.

Hermione cautiously emerged from behind the sofa, wringing the coffee out of her shirt. "Oh, I'm so glad you guys are friends again."

Harry spit.

Hermione was ready this time and dodged, managing to jump out of the way with Matrix-like agility as the mouthful of special Brazilian blend soared past her ear.

"Aha!" Hermione leapt to her feet.

Unfortunately for her, coffee spitting is one of those few comedic puns, like a single wagon wheel rolling across the road after a crash, that rarely follows the laws of physics.

The coffee rebounded off of a terrified Neville and hit her in the back of the head.

Harry smiled. "What can I say? I'm a machine for turning coffee into defiance of the laws of nature! Excuse us now Hermione, I've got my best friend back now, so you're back to being second best friend. Enjoy the coffee!"

Hermione dripped sarcasm and recycled coffee in his general direction.

* * *

The next day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to Hogsmeade on the instruction of a frantic letter from Sirius.

They waited expectantly in front of the cave in which Sirius had told them to meet him.

"Psst!"

"I've already taken care of that, but thanks for your concern," Harry stated amiably.

"No you idiot, PSSSTT! As in, it is I, Sirius, your animagus godfather, trying to get your attention without attracting the attention of anyone else…good morning ma'am, sorry for to disturb you, nice day, isn't it? Happy Shopping!"

A very confused woman screamed at the voice coming out of nowhere behind a group of nerdy looking kids. Although the sight of the tall one's disturbing facial mold usually would have been enough, the disembodied voices speaking rather pleasantly about the weather drove her over the edge.

"See?" hissed Sirius, emerging from the cave, "I told you!"

"Fine. Sorry Sirius. Now, why did you want to meet us again?" Harry asked, "Do you have any more information for us?"

Sirius nodded. "Uh…sure. I wanted to talk to you about writing to me. Signing the letters, TO SIRIUS BLACK, ESCAPED MASS MURDERER, IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS MAN, PLEASE CALL THE OPRAH HOTLINE NUMBER PROVIDED BELOW, probably isn't the best idea."

Harry frowned, "Why?"

Sirius glared, "Because Oprah showed up on my doorstep demanding justice!" His voice turned into a whine, "You know I can't resist Oprah!"

"Sorry Sirius."

"Instead, I would like you to call me by something else. An alias, if you will. Something relating to my animagus form, but still isn't too obvious."

"Snuffles," suggested Hermione.

Sirius snorted. "No way, it's got to be something manly, tough! What about Spike…or Fido…Killer…Bruiser?"

"Wingnut!" suggested Ron.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Nice to have you back, Ron."

Hermione glared. "Would you rather we call you Mipsy, because that was your other option."

Sirius frowned.

"Mister Puddles?"

Sirius paled. "Snuffles…Snuffles is good."

She smiled. "Excellent."

Sirius suddenly brightened. "So…did you bring the chicken?"

Harry nodded, holding up a drumstick. "Yes…but what does chicken have to do with telling me about the new dangers I'll face in the tournament?"

Sirius sighed. "Fine…Karkaroff's a Death Eater, Barty Crouch sentenced his own son to Azkaban, Dumbledore's mental, Madame Maxime's quite _giant_, Krum's half duck, Hagrid's the Missing Link, Draco is a pansy, and Lavender Brown is a really idiotic name…now gimme chicken!"

Harry frowned, "But you've already told me all of that, and half of it I already knew. I mean come on; we all knew the truth about Hagrid."

"It's the lack of an o-ppos-a-ble thumb." Ron nodded sagely.

Hermione gasped. "So _that's _why Hagrid says 'ugga ugga' all the time!"

Harry nodded. "That's caveman for 'shrimp boat shrimp boat'."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

"I happen to speak fluent caveman."

Sirius tapped his foot expectantly.

Harry sighed, waving the chicken leg. "Sirius, we already know all of that. Do you have anything new?"

"Give me that chicken or the hand comes off."

El Lupo rode by on his trusty horse Mudslide. "Freedom! Justice! Apple pie! And the America…British way! Ole!"

"To the Queen!" Teacups crashed.

"NO LITTERING!" screamed an irritable man wearing a Save Our Environment badge, glaring at Lupin's flashy costume and accurately named horse, Mudslide. "Spaniards! They think they can dump trash anywhere. Next time you can pick up after your own horse!"

Sirius snorted, "Go hug a tree or something."

"Wow," noted Harry, observing the steaming trash bag, "that horse is a machine for turning coffee into—"

"Ole!" El Lupo posed heroically.

"Hello Professor Lupin," chimed Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

Lupin squinted in concentration behind the mask. "British way…ole…hey, I made a rhyme!"

Hermione whispered quietly in Harry's ear as Lupin started to turn cartwheels. "I'll hold him down; you grab the chocolate and run."

* * *

_Swish._

_Thunk._

"Haha! Take that Pooter!"

_Swish._

_Thunk._

"Mwahaha! I have you now!"

_Swish._

_Thunk._

"Um, excuse me, Lord Voldemort?"

"You cannot escape me, my nemesis!" chortled Voldemort as his last dart struck a dartboard on which a photograph of Harry had been tacked.

The hooded death eater at the door came into the room further. "If you're busy…?"

Voldemort nodded, gleefully plucking a sharpened projectile out of Harry's eye. "Actually I am a bit busy." He took the Death Eater by the shoulder.

The Death Eater winced. "Uh, your dark lordship, this isn't going to turn into one of your manly hugs again, is it?"

Voldemort chuckled. "No, no. You see Robert…"

The Death Eater known as Robert groaned, "I told you, don't call me Robert! Call me something evil, like Fangsmith or Moldered or something! Robert sounds like a male nurse."

"Actually I've always been partial to the name Robert. If I could ever find a woman who didn't mind marrying an evil dark lord that is currently in fetus form, and I had a son, I would name him Robert. Or Sue. Or TouchmeandI'llripoutyourentrails. That was my grandfather's name, you know."

"But wasn't your grandfather's name Marvol…"

"Not yet, Robert! That doesn't come till later! You'll blow the whole operation!"

"Sorry, geez."

Voldemort shrugged. "Ah well, one of the three names anyways. It's so tough to choose, you know."

"Why Sue?" Robert asked, afraid of the answer.

Voldemort nodded. "To make him tough. You see, having a name that brings to mind small girls with pigtails or male nurses—"

"—hey!—"

"—tend to toughen a boy up quick. If you're a boy named Sue, you'd better be tough, or you'll get such a beating from the other kiddies. Got it bad enough from literal minded kids in elementary school, let me tell you. Just because my last name's Riddle doesn't mean I'm a bloody sphinx! I only know three riddles, and the answer to all of 'em's gravy."

Robert coughed. "Did you, uh, have a woman in mind sir?"

Voldemort sighed. "No, no, I haven't found that special someone yet. I thought I had…long ago…but it wasn't meant to be." Voldemort sniffled. "Would you hold me?"

"I knew this was going to turn into a manly hug!"

Voldemort sighed, "Oh, fine. Anyways, is there any news from our inside man about Pooter?"

Robert cringed, "I don't know if you're aware of this, sir, but it's actually Potter."

"He'd _LIKE _you to think that, wouldn't he?"

Robert blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh yes Robert, Pooter is a crafty one. The one other brilliant genius like myself, the only one worthy to fight me!" Voldemort scowled at the dartboard. "My nemesis! I'LL GET YOU THIS TIME POOTER! YOUR GENIUS SHALL NOT BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU THIS TIME!"

Dartboard Harry grinned dimwittedly, his finger firmly inserted in his left nostril.

Robert stared. "Uh…right."

Voldemort rolled the dart between two shriveled fingers, its needle sharp edge glinting in the firelight…

"I'll get you Pooter…soon…"

* * *

"Harry, Harry wake up!"

"TOUCHMEANDI'LLRIPOUTYOURENTRAILS!"

Ron sniffed, "Sorry I asked."

Harry blinked, trying to fight off the cobwebs of what had been a very disturbing dream. Though now, as he thought about it, its contents seemed to fade back into the sleepy mist.

Ron was hovering over Harry, his mold glowing with curiosity. "What were you dreaming about? You were yelling up a storm about gravy and manly hugs. And who's Robert? SOMEONE I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT?!"

Harry sighed. "I dunno, I can't really remember much about it. Except that it was evil. _Pure evil_." Harry oozed with mystery and ominous vibes.

Ron blinked. "Okay, isn't it a little early to go into angsty hero mode? In the manifesto, it explicitly states…"

"…No melodrama before breakfast, I know, I know. Sorry Ron." Harry conceded.

Ron sniffed, "Well, all right then, let's get some breakfast. You'll need it for your second challenge."

"Second challenge?! But I just got the egg yesterday!"

Ron grinned, "It's not _that _challenge! That's in a month. These in-between challenges are a tradition, my dad says. But don't worry; they're just an excuse to get someone else to do the chores around the host school. Last time they had the tournament they did the Dust Wars, Mopping Races, Prune-the-Hedges, and Give Johnson His Frog Pills. Easy stuff! Don't worry about it, mate."

Harry was far from worrying, as he had only heard one word from the whole conversation. "MOPS?! I'll CREAM them all!"

* * *

Later that day, in The Arena…

"Today's event," wheezed Dumbledore, "will be a trying race. The most brutal you will as of yet encountered in your short, pathetic lives. It is a test of skill and fortitude, or bravery and intelligence, of the strength of your fist and the strength of your stomach. For this, my dear Champions, is the race to define them all."

"ON YOUR MARKS, GET SET, GOOOOOOOO!!!"

Harry walked as quickly as possible, trying to balance the egg on the plastic spoon they had given him. All he had to do was make it around the orange pylon without dropping it, but, what's this? Cedric was gaining on him! Harry knew he would have to act quickly to secure his win.

"_It's shaping up to be a great race folks! Potter's in the lead by a hair, but Diggory is catching up, followed closely by Delacour…although it seems that Krum's duck-footed waddle just isn't fast enough to keep up…or maybe he's just been distracted by the shinny spoon, it's hard to tell, no he's still moving! Oh no, Potter's tried to jinx Diggory, but missed and the projectile of steaming coffee he conjured that was meant for Diggory and flown off into the stands! We're tracking it now and, OH! It appears to be chasing after a bushy haired fro girl with a vengeance. Will it catch her? RUN FORREST, RUN!"_

From somewhere up in the stands, Harry heard a splash and a faint sizzle.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!"

"_Now Diggory is firing back! A full porcelain tea set that seems to be singing and whistling the time just flew past Potter's ear! Diggory and Potter are neck in neck now, but it looks as if Potter's egg is wobbling. He'll have to slow down if he wants to win this race!"_

Harry and Cedric cleared the last pylon and ran back along the home stretch. Harry huffed for breath.

"Ha!" said Cedric "Breathe heavily while you can, Potter! 'Cause you're going DOWN!"

"No, it is YOU that is going to go down, Cedric! Your jungle ways shall not avail you!" Harry shouted back at him. They were almost to the finish line…and…_and_…AND…

"_IT IS OVER FOLKS! SPEEDING UP OUT OF NOWHERE, DELACOUR MAKES A SURPRISE VICTORY! THE FINAL SCORE IS FLEUR "NOT A FAIRY PRINCESS" DELACOUR, THEN A TIE BETWEEN "CRAZY LEGS" POTTER AND "RED ROCKET" DIGGORY FOR SECOND, AND IN FOURTH AND STILL WADDLING, "MURK" KRUM ROUNDS THE LAST BEND. OH, WE SEEM TO HAVE A FAN OF KRUM HERE THAT WOULD LIKE TO SAY A FEW ENCOURAGING WORDS._

_MURK, MY LOVE, I DO NOT CARE IF YOU DO WALK LIKE A DUCK AND THAT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING THING YOU SAY, AND AFTER ALL EVERYONE GETS DESTRACTED BY SHINY THINGS ONCE IN A WHILE! I STILL LOVE YOU! MURK AND RON FOREVER!_

_GIVE ME THAT!_

_I LOVE YOU MURK!_

_GIVE ME THE MICROPHONE!_

_I CLAIM MY RIGHT TO THE FIRST AMMENDMENT!_

_YOU…UH…WANT TO CARRY A FIREARM?_

_OH…"_

* * *

Through the next few weeks, the Champions were subjected to many such odd little challenges. The results were as follows:

**Modeling** Winner: Cedric…the crowd went nuts over the Tarzan outfit. Runner up: Harry…mostly on pity

**Juggling** Winner: no one…none of them could juggle which not only proved that Fleur is not only not a fairy princess, but also not a juggler. However Moody is still in question…

**Watermelon seed spitting** Winner: Harry…after all the practice on Hermione…

**Paper mache volcano building **Winner: Krum…he likes to blow things up.

**Graffiti Art **Winner: Fleur…who released her inner hoodlum…

**Miniature Golf (courtesy of Dumbledore's Secret Golf Course)** Winner: Well, Harry would have won if they hadn't found his weed and disqualified him…

* * *

The next day at breakfast, Harry could not have felt better.

"Yo, Potter, how's it going dude?"

"Hey Potter, great job on that last challenge. You even make tripping over your own cape look cool…cool-ish, anyways…"

"POTTER MOPS UP THE COMPETITION!"

"VOTE FOR POTTER!"

"POTTER MAKE LOSER LOOK GOOOOOOOD!"

Harry basked in the warmth of shallow hero worship that depended on his next win. Yes…life was—

"Harry could you pass the potatoes?" said Hermione.

Grudgingly, Harry returned to eating his breakfast. "Sure. After all," he picked up a cup of Barstuck's coffee and cameras appeared, "I'm A Machine For Turning Barstuck's Coffee Into Victory!®"

Harry took a sip.

Hermione instinctively ducked.

As Harry was about to swallow another mouthful of the vile stuff, he glimpsed Cho sitting at one of the other tables. A friend saw him staring and pointed. Cho turned around and smiled at him.

Harry spit the coffee, some cereal, a whole potato, a pancake he ate yesterday, Colin Creevy, and his own spleen. Well…in theory anyways.

Unfortunately for Hermione, what he did spit out was Barstuck's Premium Blend Moroccan Coffee only An Arm And A Leg per Cup!®

"Darn it Harry!" screamed Hermione as the coffee hit.

Cho and her friends giggled, not at Harry's embarrassing faux pas, but at Hermione the nerd girl's misfortune. Hey, if you don't think that high school age girls can be heartless, you need a reality check.

Ron smiled pleasantly throughout the whole affair, trying to see his forehead. Occasionally he mumbled to himself. "Hmm…I think I need a haircut…"

Hermione, furious and steaming slightly, glared. "Ronald, DO something!"

Ron frowned, "Well, I do have a pair of scissors…"

"HUZZAH!" A middle-aged blonde woman appeared from out of nowhere.

Ron's eyes widened. "No, not more romantic tension!"

The woman glared.

Ron gulped. "Uh, I'll help you Hermione…my dear…" He actually gagged.

Hermione took his proffered hand and pulled herself back into a sitting position. "Thank you Ronald my uh…uh…"

"Dove, passion, bliss?" suggested the woman.

Hermione grimaced. "My…uh…moldly little friend. Hey wait, when was the last time you had a haircut? You're looking a little…"

"Homeless?" Suggested Harry.

"Actually, I was thinking girlish," said Hermione.

Ron mumbled something about haircuts not growing on trees.

Harry gasped. "They don't?! So the whole thing about the Haircut Tree Fairy not visiting naughty children was a lie to avoid paying for haircuts? CURSE YOU DURSLEYS!!!"

Hermione gasped. "Oh, sorry Ron , I didn't realize it was a money issue."

"I did," said Harry.

"Yeah, well…" mumbled Ron. "Here Hermione, wipe your coffee covered face with this convenient newspaper."

Hermione took the paper. "Thanks Ronal…wait. I don't BELIEVE it! Look at this!" She shook the front page in front of Ron's nose.

Ron gasped, "Wow, Hermione, that is most definitely a hand. Yeah…thanks for showing me that…"

"Not my hand, the newspaper you…"

"HUZZAH!"

"…lovable idiot. The headline!"

**El LUPO SIGHTED ONCE AGAIN IN HOGSMEADE NEAR HOGWARTS (Page 2)**

**SECRET LOVE LIVE OF CHAMPION HARRY POTTER (Page 1)**

Ron shrugged, "So, another El Lupo sighting? Professor Lupin must really be getting around."

"The _other_ headline."

**_Since our last interview I, Rita Skeeter, have gotten the scoop on a new development in fourth Triwizard Champion Harry Potter's love life! While some people would hesitate to be romantically involved with a mentally disturbed seven year old with a Messiah complex, Hermione Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have no problem. She was quoted as saying: "Yes…I do…love...HARRY!…even though he is a…small…girl…Our…love…is…pure…!" and "I've always cared."_**

The article was accompanied by a color photo of Hermione embracing Harry with a look of pure disgust on her face. The two figures in the picture then jumped apart, then together again.

Hermione glowered. "I so never said that."

Harry blushed, "Well, Hermione, as much as this flatters me, I'd just like to be friends…"

"Shut up Loserboy."

"HUZZ…oh wait, never mind. You can insult him. Take that producers! HA!"

**_Potter has been a busy little girl. He was also sighted hugging longtime friend Ronald Wazilby! Talk about a machine for turning coffee into great news!_**

Hermione looked puzzled. "How does she do it? She saw Professor Lupin in Hogsmeade, and saw me hug you and Ron…hugging you..."

"It was a manly hug!" shouted Harry a little too loudly.

Ron pouted. "She hugged you? I wish _I _was born as a tragic hero destined to be talented, famous, and hugged by random adoring females!"

Harry smiled. "Oh Ron, you'll always be tragic to me!"

Ron frowned. "You mean a tragic _hero _right?"

"Nope...just tragic. I missed you old buddy. Who wants a hug?!"

While Harry chased Ron around the Great Hall, Hermione was deep in thought.

"How could she have known? How…?"

* * *

_**Oddly**_


	37. Applesauce

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Wow, you guys don't know how hard it was to write this with my doorbell ringing every other second—wait, there it goes—I hope there's still some candy left by the end of the night…

That Loser

**Chapter 37: Applesauce**

The loud screech of a barn owl made the students at Gryffindor Table look up, watching the majestic bird soar purposely towards them, an air of powerful attentiveness at its task.

The loud screech of a ruffled owl losing altitude caused the Gryffindor students to point and laugh as it dive-bombed into Ron's morning applesauce.

"CAN'T I HAVE ANYTHING?" He cried, an empty spoon held sadly aloft without applesauce filling its sad, sad, void.

The heartbreak of that unfilledness-ness, was a tragic sight, oh so soon on that breaking dawn, that until now had been a promising day. Filled with joy and tribulation and applesauce—

"—Ron, stop lamenting your breakfast, and save Errol from drowning."

The fore mentioned Weasley child grumbled and scooped the ragged owl out from his bowl, pounded him against the side of table to unstick any remaining food fragments, and sat him beside Harry's plate.

Harry glared, clutching his bacon closer to his chest. "Mine."

Hermione rolled her eyes, untied the parcel from the elderly owl and gave it a push in the right direction. It fell off the table with a _thump_.

"I GOT SOMETHING?" Ron hurled his metal spoon promptly away from him (which happened to concuss a little first year) and ripped the package from Hermione's hands.

"What is it?" Harry mumbled his mouth half full with bacon as bits of cardboard flew past him from Ron's eager gift unwrapping.

"It's a—it's a—" He paused, holding the item up and looking at it questionably. Looking at its front, back…sideways, upside down, inside out.

A repulsive smell drifted toward them, and Hermione, wide-eyed, pulled off her shiny black boots and zipped them in her book bag.

A head popped up from under the table, wearing a dirty sock hat. "It must be a ceremonial robe, master." The hobo guessed.

Hermione smiled hesitantly, trying not to breath through her nose. "Oh look Harry, Ron's…friend is back…how…nice to see you again."

The reeking human smiled at her, then offered her her own package. "And your encased-diamond banana, as you asked for."

Hermione too tucked this away and laughed feebly. "You completed your mission so fast…how…resourceful…."

Harry leaned over and hissed angrily in her ear. "I thought you said there was no such thing as a diamond banana!"

"There isn't!" She insisted, as the hobo and Ron chatted amiably.

"—A ceremonial robe, you say?" Ron questioned his little serf, holding the molding, lacey, mauve dress aloft.

"Oh, aye." The hobo nodded eagerly, bits of dirt spraying the surrounding students. "The masters of thine school must have decided to honor your brilliance, sire!"

"Frigging A!—Uh," Ron paused, coughed and reverted back to British English. "BLOODY BRILLIANT!"

Harry leaned once more towards Hermione. "Did Ron just say Friggin' A?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and nodded slowly, all the while glaring at the Weasley boy as he pranced around showing off his dres—robe. "I suspect the author is confused."

"—THAT'S RIGHT, YOU MERE LOWLY PEASENTS! BOW DOWN TO ME! I AM TO BE HONORED ABOVE ALL YOU TWITS! AND THERE WILL BE APPLESAUCE! OH, YES! APPLESAUCE FOR EVERYONE!"

Ron flung his arms over his head, spinning in a mad circle and accompanied by some slight maniacal laughter.

Harry and Hermione quickly gathered their books while the little hobo went around to the Hufflepuffs demanding servitude. Ginny walked into the Great Hall, gazing at the strange activity. She brightened when she saw Ron.

"Oh Ron, thank Merlin. I had hoped that Mum had only mis-packaged my dress one Weasley down."

* * *

Later that day in Potions, while Ron was still sulking over his 'ceremonial robe' a new fashion craze swept the school.

It all started the weekend before, when Malfoy came back with Muggle apparel…

"What the hell, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy sauntered into the class fifteen minutes late, pirouetted, then pranced across the room to his seat.

Professor Snape gaped open-mouthed at the scene, then promptly threw his stirring spoon at Seamus' head. "50 points from Gryffindor!"

"What?" Seamus groaned angrily, rubbing his head. "Is it my fault Draco is dressing like a homo?"

Snape flung a dead rat at him. "100!"

"Professor!" Seamus cried.

"120!"

The fourth year Gryffindor boy angrily drifted into silence, as did the rest of the class. They turned and stared at Malfoy.

"What?" Draco shrugged, crossing his legs. "Is there something wrong with expressing my own personality?"

Snape sneered. "But why the pink pants?"

Malfoy jumped to his feet. "PINK IS A VERY MANLY COLOR! IT BRINGS OUT MY ALABASTER UNDERTONES!"

Another Slytherin boy in the back of the class room squinted at the young Malfoy heir.  
"There's something written on his butt." He declared.

Malfoy nodded angrily. "Of course there is! It's fashion!"

And indeed, there was something written on the back of Draco Malfoy's pink pants, in loopy, fancy script: **_JUICY_**.

"Juicy? Exactly what's that supposed to mean?" Dean accused him.

"That is stupid!" Hermione agreed.

"I don't know…" Parvati cut in, a strange gleam in her eyes. "They're kind of…cute…"

"Mister Malfoy," Snape ordered, and sternly, having added the not often used middle "iste". "Go change this instant. You are shaming your house."

Malfoy huffed, and marched towards the door. "THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH IT!" he screamed and raced out of the room.

Snape may have put a stop to it at the moment, but the idea was now floating toxically around…

* * *

"What in the name of Merlin is going on!" Hermione cried, as the trio stepped into the Great Hall for the lunch break. "I demand some answers!"

Lavender and Parvati floated past them in matching turquoise kakis, with the words: **_Cute_** and **_Available_** pasted across their hind ends in rhinestones.

"Uh! Did you just see that?" She pointed furiously at the two girls. "Their butts were sparkling, Ronald! THEIR BUTTS WERE SPARKLING."

Ron eyed this anomaly, "Uhuh."

"Ah! Harry!" Alicia enthusiastically greeted him as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Have you noticed the pants?"

Harry looked around at random **_Cute_**'s, **_Juciy_**'s, a **_Sexy_** on Neville, and even saw Draco again, sporting white fabric and an **_Obscenely Rich_** logoed rear end.

"Yesss…" He hesitantly answered his Quidditch teammate.

"They're smashing! Aren't they?" Alicia nodded excitedly, "And I thought, what better way to keep the team's moral up when we have the year off!" She held up two pairs of striped gold and red pants, one said **_Gryffindor_** and one said **_Quidditch_**. "Now which one do you like?"

"Uh…"

Luckily, Harry was saved from answering the question by McGonagall's booming voice. "ALL GRYFFINDOR STUDENTS TO CLASSROOM C34, I REPEAT, ALL GRYFFINDOR STUDENTS TO CLASSROOM C34!"

Harry quickly jumped away from the logoed pants and hurried into the hallway.

Ron and Hermione slowly followed, Hermione glaring at the multicolored pants.

"Honestly, Ronald! Sparkling!"

* * *

"Gryffindor is a proud house." Professor McGonagall announced in her purple **_Animagi_** pants. "And with the Yule Ball fast approaching, we must learn the proper techniques and manners, so not to disgrace our house…yes, Ms. Brown?"

Lavender lowered her hand. "So, there really is going to be a ball this Christmas?" She squeaked excitedly.

"Yes," McGonagall blinked. "For fourth years and above, normally it would be only sixth years and above, but because of Special Potter we had to bend the rules."

Harry coughed at the Professor's frank statement, choking on his spit.

"Third years and below are invited to come only if asked by an upper classman. So!" She clapped her hands together. "First we must…yes, Ms. Patal?"

Parvati lowered her hand. "So a dance, we're really, really, having one?"

"Yes," McGonagall frowned. "As I stated, there will be a dance…"

"With dresses?" a fifth year girl questioned.

"Y—ess…those things are often required at such an event…"

"And dress robes?" A small second year quivered.

"Yes, of course—"

"And a band?"

"It's a ball! Of course there will be music!"

"So, dancing? And food."

"YES!" the Head of Gryffindor screeched. "IT'S A BALL—A DANCE, YOU WILL DANCE AND EAT AND BE MERRY, OR SO HELP ME—" She paused, then slowly withdrew her index finger and lowered her hand. "—any more questions?"

"Whoa, now M-Dawg." One of the Weasley twins spoke up. "There's no need for finger wagging, just tell us why we're here."

"Yes," She glared at her students. "On the dance floor you must be like a delicate-dancing-thingy! A Lordly, leaping lion! Or a lovely lusty lady! But no lusty, otherwise I'll rip your tongue out." She paused giving them the stare. "Any more questions?"

Ron giggled into Harry's ear. "I don't think Eloise Midgen is a lovely anything."

"HEY!" A large girl with broad shoulders screamed across the room at Ron, her towering six foot frame looming over the other girls.

Ron paled, then quickly turned away, as if he couldn't hear her.

"YEAH, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU NILLY BOY!"

"Ron…I think Eloise is trying to tell you something…" Harry whispered in his ear.

"WHAT? YER THINK YOU'RE SO GREAT, MOLD-FACE? EH?"

"She's crazy…" Ron moaned, "I think she's going to kill me…and what mold?"

"COME ON OVER HERE AND I'LL SHOW YE LOVELY! I'LL GRIND YE BONES TO MAKE ME BREAD!"

Professor McGonagall beamed at the exchange. "This is exactly what I was looking for! Mature students who want to work hard for the glory of their house! Well done you two!"

"ARGGHHH!"

"Why," Minerva continued on, "Why don't you two just show us how it's done! Come now, join hands…"

The large girl smiled evilly. "COME TO MIDGEN, MY PET."

"Harry!" Ron hissed, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, "Please! Don't let her take me!"

Eloise marched across the floor and grabbed onto Ron's legs, yanking him off Harry, the Boy-Who-Didn't-Want-To-Get-Involved.

"NOOOOooooo…"

Fred and George, the usual pranksters, and funny guys extraordinaire, had nothing to follow this up with as they watched open-mouthed as the Gryffindor girl wiped Ron across the floor.

* * *

After their two hours of dance class was over (Ron and Eloise had been asked to pair off ten more times) Ron and Harry limped out of Classroom C34, followed by Hermione. The boys were covered with bruises; Ron because he was used as a mop, and Harry, because everyone had been dying to impress a School Champion.

"So…find any suitable dates?"

Harry frowned, when McGonagall had announced that Harry had needed a date to dance the opening number with the other School Champions, it had started a riot.

"I don't know…" he looked down at his ink-marked body. "This Susan Markings, Year 6 on my left elbow, seemed nice…or Rachel Meyer, Year 4 on my forehead…defiantly not Emily Johnson, Year 7, who ripped off my right pant leg…"

Ron glanced fore longingly down at all the scribbled names covering Harry's body.

"…but…" Harry continued on, "I've really had my eye set on…uh,…someone else…"

Ron sighed, imagining bright Bulgarian colors. "Me too."

Hermione snorted. "Well, who ever it is, just make sure it isn't a girl wearing a pair of those stupid logoed pants," she glared as a group of girls in **_Champions are Hot_**,**_ Cedric Flushes the Potty!_**,and **_Edmund_** pants walked by.

"They're so stupid!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Okay, Harry, by the end of the day, we will have dates, got it?"

Harry nodded, "I'll do it,"

So, they spit, missed, clapped hands, and went in opposite directions.

* * *

Harry had been roaming around for a couple hours, when he decided to take a break and visit Hedwig, he had never felt this urge before, but plot-wise, it was important for him to be there.

He was walking up the icy steps to the Owlery, which had mysteriously been separated from the castle this past year, when, rounding on the door, he ran into Cho Chang.

"O'ye! Arry!" She screeched, slipping, and falling on her butt.

"Oh, Cho!" Harry hurriedly grabbed her arm and helped her up. "Are you all right?"

"Vell, yes, intiz fein nooow." She replied, switching from and Scottish accent to a German one.

An awkward silence filled the air between them, Harry cursed his instincts of following the plot.

"Ell, Ei moust bee going…" she hesitantly told him in her Chinese accent, as she tried to shuffle around him.

"Wait!" Harry spun around, "willyougototheballwithme?"

"WAIT?" Cho questioned him in her thick Scandinavian voice.

"I said, Will you go…to…theball withme?"

"Oh…" Cho sighed, deflating. "I'm sorry dude, that sounds radical, but I've already got a BF for this thing."

Harry's lips quivered, "It's…it's…" Without warning his pants fell down.

And that's when the Gryffindor School Champion ran away crying.

* * *

When Harry walked in to the Gryffindor Common Room later that night, his quest unfinished, he didn't expect to see a defeated Ron, slumped on the couch with a pair of **_Moist_** neon pink logoed pants on.

Ginny was standing beside him, gently patting his arm and whispering soothingly to him.

Harry joined the scene. After a couple minutes he leaned over towards Ron. "What's with 'Moist'?"

"You know…Juicy, Sweet, Moist…" he mumbled.

"Ron, you have no capacity for muggle knowledge, at all…" he paused. "So what happened to you?"

He groaned. "I asked Fleur out."

Hermione had joined them by this time. "She said no?" She inquired.

Ron moaned again. "Noo…"

"She said yes!" Harry yelled, wondering how in the world Ron got a date and not him.

"Nooo…"

Hermione frowned. "Then what?"

Ginny looked up from her brother and over at the other two. "Oh, don't laugh at him, but he went up and asked her…and she just kind of stared at him…"

"Was she surrounded by people?" Harry asked.

Ron started kicking his feet on the floor. "Yes! That's why it was so bad!"

"Ahh…" Hermione nodded wisely. "Don't worry about it Ron, she was probably turning on the charms for some other boy, and you got hit in the crossfire."

"She is half-veela," Harry added.

"Oh, that makes me feel loads better!" Ron growled.

"Don't worry about it," Harry laid back against the backrest, "I don't have a date too. Either does Hermione or Ginny…"

Ron bolted upright. "Hey! That's right! Hermione you're a girl! And Ginny! You can go with Harry!"

Ginny blushed. "I can't, I already promised Neville…Sorry, Harry."

Harry shrugged.

Hermione bristled, turning toward Ron. "OH? A girl, am I? How clever of you to notice, Ronald!"

"Well?" He insisted. "It's not like you were asked out!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. "As a matter of fact, I have! And maybe next time, you'll ask me sooner and not use me as your SCAPEGOAT!" With that she stormed away.

Ginny sighed, then got up to follow her. "I hope you're feeling better Ron, Bye Harry." And with that she walked away, her **_HP FanClub_** pants flashing in the firelight.

"Well, Harry…now what?"

Harry looked around, noticing Lavender and Parvati enter the Common Room.

"Stay there," he told Ron, "I'll be right back."

He jumped up from the couch and trekked over towards the two girls.

"Look Parvati," he said rather bluntly. "I need a date for the Yule Ball, would you be mine?"

Parvati eyed him for two whole minutes, then pried open his mouth and checked his teeth, she turned away and discussed the situation in hurried whispers.

Phrases like "Loser…", and "whiny…" popped up, but she soon turned back around.

"Sure."

Harry sighed. "And what about my friend Ron? Would Lavender…?"

"HELL NO." Lavender burst out. "I mean…uh, I already have a date. Sorry."

Parvati looked over at Ron, eyeing him as critically as she eyed him. "I think my twin Padma will take—er, will be happy to go out with him."

He gave her a relieved smile. "Okay, thanks…uh, I'll talk to you later…?"

She nodded waving him away, then broke out into excited giggles, just like the kind Ron did.

Harry strutted over to Ron.

"I have acquired dates."

Ron laughed. "Good, I was beginning to think we were losers or something…"

Harry snorted. "For real."

* * *

**_Siriusly _**


	38. Two to Tango

Thank you again for waiting so long for the next chapter. We had a lot going to but should (and yes, I know I've said this before) be able to get chapters out regularly. This time I mean it! I think…

So anyways, thanks for those of you who reviewed while we were away. Thanks to Chilaro (you're too kind!) Aayla Security (always love to hear it) Cristi Potter (thanks for sticking with us!) umichi (feel free to laugh manically…as long as you review!) Genna (sorry it was so short, I did my best to get Siriusly to write the next chapter cracks whip and it was either a short chapter, or no chapter. Glad you liked it. Yay Siriusly!) Iggy Smokes Pot (Uh…that's biologically impossible…but thank you?), Vria (new readers!). Kohikari (thanks for the list. It really helps to know what works and what doesn't—and of course I remember!) Ohyeah100 (thanks for continuing to review!) For anyone that I forgot or reviewed after I wrote this chapter, I appreciate you too. I just thought you should know. So thanks to all readers and reviewers!

That Loser

**Chapter 38: Two to Tango**

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" Harold Pooter awoke to a demented fetus screaming an inch from his face.

Harold immediately hit the fetus with his pillow.

"My Lord!" cried a voice.

The fetus scowled, pulling itself back up onto the bed. "No, I'm all right. I'm fine. That was a low blow Pooter. When I'm fully sized…" The fetus cackled.

Marylin Pooter woke up slowly. "Honey? Has Trevor been harassing the cat again?"

"Silence, woman!" the fetus shouted. Harold also noticed someone else standing in the corner. He looked decidedly…ratish…

The fetus grinned evilly at Harold. "So Pooter, I have you now!"

Harold was sweating profusely. "What…what do you want?"

The fetus laughed. "Ha! As if you didn't know! Laugh with me Wormtail!"

The figure in the shadow let out a girlish giggle.

Harold started laughing too. After all, it was pretty funny.

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT POOTER?!"

Harold stopped immediately. "I dunno. I was just trying to…blend in?"

"You have no reason to laugh. Because you see Pooter, today is not your day. Unpleasant things are going to happen to you today."

Marylin frowned. "Actually its eleven fifty nine, so technically it's still nighttime."

The fetus stopped, confused. "Oh. Well…we'll just wait one minute then."

There was an awkward silence.

**12:00**

"Aha! Finally, my monologue may now continue!"

Harold cowered. "Why are you here? Could this possibly be a case of mistaken identity? You thought I was someone named, oh I don't know, say Harry Potter or something, and now you're going to destroy me. Well…I'd really rather that you didn't. Tomorrow's casual day at the office, and I just got this Hawaiian shirt that I'm really excited about…"

The fetus glared. "Don't be ridiculous. Just answer the question! Are you, or are you not…"

Harold squeaked.

"…stealing cable from us?!"

Harlod blinked. "Wha…what?"

"I knew it! You're stealing cable from us! Justice…I mean evil…shall prevail!"

Harold blinked. "I…I don't think so."

Marylin shrugged. "Actually yes, we are, but it doesn't hurt you. We're just…"

Harold blinked again.

Marylin sighed. "Well I'm just sticking it to the Man!"

The fetus sighed. "Oh…that's all right then. Come along, Wormtail."

Harold frowned. "So…my shirt?"

Marylin sighed. "Just go back to bed, honey."

The dream faded into a blur…

**

* * *

**

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" Harry grunted unintelligibly at Ron, who was just a little too perky this morning.

"Whazzat?" Harry still had visions of evil fetuses and Hawaiian shirts dancing in his head.

Ron smiled knowingly at Harry.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Guess what day it is!" Ron looked ready to explode with glee.

Harry sighed. "I dunno, Tuesday?"

"NO!" Ron looked triumphant, then deflated. " Um…well, actually yes. But what else?"

Harry shrugged, "Uh, well…it's Bingo night…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "No silly, it's our anniversary!"

"Um…I wasn't aware that we'd made any commitments…" Harry coughed nervously.

"Not that anniversary, our Best Friends anniversary!" Ron's mold glowed giddily green. "It was six—"

"—four—"

"—four years ago that we met on the train and became best friends!"

Harry looked confused. "But wasn't that in July…?"

Ron frowned. "So?"

"Look, even though Dumbledore won't allow any calendars in the castle because he thinks they look as though they're plotting something, I'm pretty sure it's not July anymore. I mean Ron, for Merlin's sake, it's snowing outside."

Ron could not to be deterred. "Don't ask questions! Now, what'd you get me? I got you a Waffle Crisper!"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Um…"

"Asparagus Cooker? Occult jewelry? Lime-Away?"

"Well…I kind of…misplaced…"

Ron's eyes filled with tears. "You…you forgot again, didn't you?"

Harry squirmed. "Um. No?"

Ron sighed with relief. "Oh good. For a minute there I was worried! So, where's my present?"

"Um…in my pocket."

Ron smiled. "Great! So, let's see it then!"

Harry fumbled around inside his pockets, finally extracting a wadded gum wrapper.

Ron started to cry.

"No! Um…it's a symbol! Of our tumultuous, yet minty fresh relationship that's good to the last bubble!"

Ron sobbed. "How could you forget our sixth—"

"—fourth—"

"—fourth anniversary like that?! After all we've been through in our six—"

"—four—"

"—four years at Hogwarts together?

Harry finally snapped. "FOR MERLIN'S SAKE RON, IT'S NOT EVEN A REAL ANNIVERSARY!"

Ron looked as though he'd been slapped. "Oh yeah, sure, care about Merlin's needs why don't you!" Ron's voice took on a whiny pitch. "'For Merlin's sake, it's snowing outside.' 'For Merlin's sake, it's not even a REAL anniversary!' Merlin, Merlin, Merlin! What about my needs, huh? And what about Pete…in the wizarding world he's so left out. No one ever does anything for Pete's sake anymore!"

Harry blinked. "Uh…and why does this make you angry?"

Ron plowed on like some sort of metaphor that plows. "Well outside it may snow for Merlin, but inside, right now, it's our anniversary, and you forgot. I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU HARRY JA…"

Hermione entered the room, "Morning guys. How's that homework coming?"

Ron face blanked suddenly. "What was I saying? I'm sorry, whenever Hermione mentions homework I blank it out. You know, it being traumatic and all."

Harry patted Ron good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Nothing important, Ron."

Ron sighed, "Oh good. I've forgotten more haircuts that way…"

Hermione frowned. "Speaking of haircuts…Harry…your hair?"

"Harry, your messy jet-black hair…" Ron corrected. "Say it right."

Hermione sighed. "Right. Harry, isn't your messy jet-black hair shorter than it was just a minute ago?"

Harry stared in deep concentration at his forehead. "Can't tell. Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably nothing."

Harry's messy jet-black hair randomly got long again.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

Hermione was trying to stand nonchalantly against the wall. "Oh, um, nothing."

"No, what are you hiding?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Nothing!" Hermione looked frantic.

"Wait, what's that glittering?"

"And why are you wearing sweatpants?"

"And…"

"I…I…oh all right, you caught me!" Ashamed, she turned around to show the back of her pants.

Ron screamed, dazzled by the light of Hermione's butt. "AHH!!! THE RHINDSTONES, THEY BURN!!!"

Harry shielded his eyes, his messy jet-black hair gleaming in the brilliance of Hermione's pants. "Nice pants. Wait…do they say CRESPUSCULAR?"

Hermione twitched, silently petting her pocket dictionary. "Maybe."

Harry raised an eyebrow, then giggled.

Hermione coughed.

Harry looked dejected. "Sorry."

Ron blinked a few times until his eyes uncrossed. "I can see again! Sweet vision!"

"So, Hermione, why are you wearing logoed pants?" Harry asked. "I thought you hated them."

Hermione blinked furtively. "I never said that."

"Yeah, you did."

"Prove it!" Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, satisfied.

Ron solemnly took out a tape recorder and pressed play. "'This is stupid!' 'Their butts are sparkling!' 'What in Merlin's name—"

Ron pointed at the tape recorder. "AHA! Merlin! You friend-stealer. I'LL GET YOU MERLIN!"

Hermione sighed, "Ron, he's dead."

Ron blinked. "So I got him?"

"Uh…no."

"Ha! I win!"

The tape player continued. "—going on around here!' 'Stupid logoed pants!' 'I hate them!'" The tape staticked to a halt. Somewhere, concealed in the static, a voice called out.

"_Edmund…I know you're here…I didn't forget…Edmund…I'll find you…love…Edmun_—

Ron tried to shut off the tape. "Stupid thing, picking up a radio station." He whacked it.

"_Harry, it's us, your mom and dad from beyond the grave!_"

Harry sighed. "Oh, give it here." He took out a hammer and demolished the tape player. "What—is—wrong—with—you?! There!" He dumped the broken bits of wiring and plastic at Ron's feet. "Fixed it."

Ron's lower lip quivered. "CURSE YOU MERLIN!"

Harry shrugged. "I blame Snape."

**

* * *

**

Angst. Angst. Angst. Eggs. Harry shoved a fork full of eggy goodness into his mouth, completely failing to take a moment to remember the baby chickens that had so thoughtfully given their lives to give him a balanced breakfast. Harry's messy jet-black hair fell into his eyes like angsty waterfall made of messy jet-black hair. His probably green eyes changed color randomly. His scar glowed with the slightly dim-witted light of moody heroics. Chew. Chew. Chew. Angst. Swallow.

Angst. Angst. Angst. Potatoes.

"Morning Harry," said Hermione, sliding onto the bench next to him.

"Mmmph," said Harry.

One look at Harry's WHAT'S THE POINT, ANYWAYS? T-shirt told her everything she needed to know. "Oh, so it's one of _those_ days, is it?"

"Good morning world, and all that inhabit it!" Ron slid onto the bench next to Hermione, radiating cheerful sunshine and the spirit of small, easily confused, furry animals everywhere.

"Mmmph."

"Morning Ron—time to take your pill!" Hermione pulled out a pill the size of Ron's head and stuffed it in Ron's mouth.

Ron swallowed, shuddering. "Darn it, I hate The Pill."

"Yes, but you know how…excited…you get if you don't take it."

Ron, who had just dumped the sugar bowl into his mouth, was licking his sugarcoated fingers. "Can't imagine why."

"Anyways, go hide Harry's silverware for me. He's in one of his moods again."

"Mmmph."

Ron sulked. "I don't see why I have to do everything around here."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Who helps you with homework?"

"You…but—"

"Who helps you sound out difficult words?"

"You do."

"And who saves your butt every twenty seconds?"

Ron chuckled. "Well, I think that's a bit of an overstatement…"

"Uh huh. Five, four, three, two, one."

"SPIDERRRRRSSSSS!!!!"

Hermione smiled. "And so who totally owns you?"

Ron looked cross-eyed at his forehead where the words PROPERTY OF HERMIONE GRANGER were branded. "You do."

"That's what I thought you said. And besides, I hid them last time."

Harry turned his head to talk to Ron and Hermione, but decided that conversation was meaningless, so instead he dropped his head into his mashed potatoes.

"Mmmph."

"And while you're at it, Harry's fallen into his potatoes."

"How can you tell?"

"The mmmph is a little more muffled."

Ron shrugged. "Come on, Harry." He grabbed a hunk of Harry's messy jet-black hair.

Harry's face reemerged no worse for wear that a few bits of potato stuck on his chin.

"Now that that's taken care of…um…you said you had a date to the dance?" Ron squirmed uncomfortably.

Harry looked with sudden inspiration at a stick of butter. He began carving into it with a spoon. Hermione had taken his knife away.

Hermione sniffed. "I most certainly do, but it's none of your business."

"I KNEW IT! You don't have anyone!"

Hermione frowned. "Um, I think we've been over this already."

"Oh, right."

There was an awkward silence.

Hermione picked at her fingernails. "So…"

Ron scratched his ear. "Okay. I've got nothing."

"I guess I'm just so used to having Harry around to make the whole probably-a-couple thing not so…weird." Hermione sighed.

Ron nodded. "Exactly! Without him, our little golden trio is just a rusty duo. And no one cares about that."

Awkward silence.

"So…" Ron shuffled awkwardly. "You said you had a date to the d—"

"Don't start."

"Right. Sorry."

Harry got up to walk over to Hermione, but collapsed when he realized that walking is meaningless.

"Yes, what is it, Harry?"

Harry handed her a stick of butter with a spoon still stuck handle-first into its mutilated dairy surface.

Hermione coughed. "Oh, how nice. A poem. For me?"

"Mmmph."

"Let's see here. It's called Why Bother? An original poem by Harry Potter."

Ron snorted. "What kind of title is tha—"

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Be supportive!"

"Is this right?" Ron grabbed onto Dumbledore's elbow and led him across the room. "Don't worry old man, we're almost to your table."

Dumbledore mumbled blearily. "Oh goodie. Will there be pineapples?"

"Probably. Probably."

Hermione rolled her eyes and read the poem.

**Why Bother? An original poem by Harry Potter  
There is not tomorrow because **

**I die. You die. We all die.**

**Eventually.**

**We are all dust in the wind**

**Which will be blown away**

**Forever.**

**No one understands my pain**

**And I will be sent to counseling**

**Probably.**

**But it doesn't matter because**

**I die. You die. We all die.**

**Eventually.**

**But there's no use worrying about it…there's nothing you can do anyways…**

Hermione coughed. "Wow. Um. That was…"

"HILARIOUS!" Ron slapped Harry on the back. Harry promptly fell into the pudding. "Good one, Harry!"

"…depressing," finished Hermione. "Ron? I think it's time for an intervention."

Ron jumped up and down gleefully. "Ooh! Do I get to hold the funnel this time?"

What exactly Ron's funnel would be used for we will never know because, at that very moment, Fleur and the Beauxbatons girls fluttered by.

Ron elbowed Harry, still facedown in pudding. "Harry, look! Girls!"

Harry immediately came out of his angsty stupor. "CHO?!"

Ron sighed. "Just look at them. You know how I love it when they walk. Breathe. Digest food. It's like poetry in motion, but with less butter. You know what I mean?"

Harry nodded. "Not a clue."

"Nice to have you back, Harry," said Hermione.

Harry thoughtfully peeled eggs off of his face. "So can I have my knife back now? I've got some sausages here and—"

"No."

"Fair enough."

The newly reassembled, non-awkward, non-rusty golden trio walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand.

Dumbledore coughed. "So…no pineapples, then?"

* * *

"Dance Lesson number two: The Tango!" Professor McGonagall slapped a pointer against a chalkboard filled with little diagrams of people dancing and footprints with little dotted tails and circles and lines and cheeses, and all sorts of confusing information. She didn't seem to realize that half her diagrams had been erased. Dancing Denny and Waltzing Wendy now had moustaches and were wrestling, and the board was covered with scrawled graffiti.

**Buy your logoed pants while they're hot. Now with new logoes! Now featuring: Fashion Victim! Sparkly! Squishy! Morbid! Cute! Pretty! Easy! Lemming! Brat! Hot! Cool! Mildly Lukewarm! Harry Potter Fan Club! Frog Choir! Boy-Who-Lived! Boy-Who-Died! (the funeral special)**

**And now, in honor of the upcoming Yule Ball and The Triwizard Tournament: Cedric Cares About Sanitation! MURK! Fleur Makes My Knees Wobbly! Harry Mops Up The Competition!**

**Lavender, do you like me? Check yes or no.**

**Waltzing Wendy Makes My Knees Wobbly!**

**Buy dress robes cheap. Ask for The Scalper.**

**Moody's Quiz Answers: ACBDDACC, Constant Vigilence, Because the Dark Lord tells us to, True: Dumbledore must die, False: Professor Moody is not a fairy princess**

**MURK, I LOVE YOU! I'LL WAIT FOR YOU!**

"Now, to demonstrate, I'm going to need a volunteer to dance the Tango with me," McGonagall searched the crowd for signs of weakness. Ron was cringing under the withering gaze of Midgen.

Ron quivered. "Huge. Large. Solid. EVIL."

McGonagall smiled. "Ronald, thank you for volunteering!"

She pulled him up onto the main dancing floor, in front of everyone. Harry gave a supporting thumbs up, his messy jet-black hair slightly shorter than usual. Hermione cringed. Fred and George exploded in laughter, their matching sweater vests quivering in Irish glee.

Fred elbowed Neville in the ribs. "Hey, this is going to be good, e—whoa! Neville! When did you get so freakishly huge?!"

Neville shrugged, towering above the other students. "I dunno. One day I was looking people straight in the knees, and the next I'm hitting my head on low-flying birds."

A seagull smacked into Neville's head out of nowhere. "See!"

The Weasleys, never picky eaters, regarded the bird with a calculated glance. Fred sighed. "Well all right George, but only if I get a wing."

"Awesome! Seagull tonight, Ron! Mum will be so pleased."

Meanwhile, McGonagall started the zesty tango music, while Ron looked desperately for some means of escape. Even his mold had deserted him.

McGonagall nodded. "Lovely. Now…Ronald? Ronald? Excuse me moldless boy, I'm looking for Ronald. About this tall? Gangly? Molding slightly around the ears? An aura of general loserness?"

Ron blinked. "I am Ronald."

McGonagall laughed. "Oh, of course. I like what you've done…or rather, um, not done…with your mold."

"I mean, I'm not Ron! I'm his moldless cousin, Don Weasels!"

"Fine, fine. Now Ronald, square your feet. Yes, just like that. Chin up. Good. Now put your hand on my waist."

Ron paled. "WHERE?!"

McGonagall sighed. "On my waist."

Ron blushed. "Professor, I think there are laws against that sort of thing…"

"Honestly, Ronald. If you can't be mature about this, I'll get someone else."

Ron laughed loudly, nervously. "HA HA HA! I AM SO IMMATURE! HA HA HA!"

"Nice try, Ronald. Just do it."

Ron gulped, and hesitantly placed his hand on her waist. Suddenly he looked shocked, then giddy. "Professor McGonagall…Minerva…I never realized…"

McGonagall sighed. "Just dance, Ronald."

He giggled. "You're pretty."

"And one two three and—"

"You smell good."

"—two three and…yes…very good—"

"I knew you liked me! Aha!"

"Ronald?"

"I wrote a song for you! Listen: Tango Tango Tango! It rhymes with Mango Mango Mango!"

"Ronald?"

"Um…Fandango Fandango Fandango!"

"Ronald!"

"Yes, my sweet Minerva?"

"The song's over…you can let go now."

Ron blinked, letting go. "Oh. Um…sorry."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, well, class is dismissed. For next time: The Cha-Cha! By the way, nice improvement on your Salsa, Parvati. It's delicious. And Neville's Foxtrot…well…see me afterwards, Neville."

As the rest of the class filed out, Harry, Hermione, and Ron hung back.

Ron gazed wistfully at Professor McGonagall.

Harry intruded insensitively, "Ron, what's wrong with you?" His hair hung suspiciously low over his eyes.

"His messy jet-black hair," Ron pointed out.

Hermione punched him on the shoulder. "No, that's the narration you moron! You can't correct the narration!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Right. So, what exactly was all that?"

"What, you mean the hair or…?"

Hermione coughed. "You know, all that…Mango business…"

Ron laughed nervously. "Oh, uh, ha ha ha! You actually believed me!"

Hermione sighed. "Oh good. For a second there, I thought you actually—well, never mind. Coming, Ronald?"

Ron nodded as Harry and Hermione exited the classroom. "In a minute."

He stared at McGonagall yelling as Neville Foxtrotted on her toes. "Minerva, my dove! Our secret love will one day bloom into a rose/and I think you're great and I like your nose/You make me feel like a pansy metaphor and…um…something that rhymes with rose…"

* * *

Somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds…

Viktor Krum walked about the Hogwarts property stretching and waving his arms around like a madman. This would have been a bit odd, but a group of loyal Murk fans were following his every step, so that made it all right.

Krum and his procession passed the tree by which Harry and Hermione had been studying all day. Well, Hermione had been studying anyways. Harry was mostly doodling pictures of Cho and deciding what he wanted to say in his speech when he was elected King of the Yule Ball. There was supposed to be a crown and mops involved. Harry was very excited.

Hermione, an Arithmancy book open on her lap, scowled at the procession. "Look at the way they fawn over him! It's contemptible."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, sure. Very combustible."

"Contemptible."

"Computable."

"Contemptible."

"Whatever."

Hermione pointed. "Oh look, one of them has a banner!" One of the Krum fans was holding a pink banner embroidered sloppily with hears.

"MURK! I'M SORRY FOR MY UNFAITHFULNESS! I PROMISE MINERVA MEANS NOTHING TO ME! IT'S YOU THAT I LOVE! SURE MINERVA IS BEAUTIFUL, GRACEFUL, AND HAS A WAIST, BUT SHE COULD NEVER COMPARE TO YOU! MURK? WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME?!"

Hermione blinked. "Ron, what are you doing?"

The pink banner suddenly dropped out of sight.

"Um…I'm not Ron." said a high squeaky voice.

Hermione stood, hands on hips. "You're not fooling anyone, you know."

"Yes I am! Wait…oh sugar!"

Hermione nodded curtly. "That's what I thought. Come along, Ron. You've got to get ready for the Yule Ball tonight." She grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him away from the fan entourage.

"Murk! I'll wait for you!"

* * *

Ron adjusted his tie in the mirror. Because of the lack of details from the author, you might think that the mirror, tie, and Ron in question were located by a tree somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds. However, you would be wrong in this assumption because Ron was in fact in his room at about eight o' clock that night, getting ready for the Yule Ball.

"Okay Harry, what do you think?" Ron posed.

Harry coughed. "I see that you burned off all the lace."

Ron beamed proudly. "With a blowtorch."

"Tried to dye it brown…"

"…Made the pudding myself."

"Melted away the collar…"

"…who knew acid worked on polyester?"

"Viciously ravaged the rickrack…"

Ron stopped. "I resent that. I used safety scissors!"

Harry looked Ron up and down a second time. "Well, when you put it all together it's not so much four little tragedies, as one big fashion disaster."

Ron blushed. "I try. And what about you? I like your blue…green…blue…gre…no wait, still blue…okay, now they're green…robes. They match your eyes."

"So are we ready?"

Ron nodded. "I think so. Oh wait, I almost forgot!" Ron plucked a small bouquet on a pin from his trunk. "My mum says that when you go to the Yule Ball you've got to have a corset to give to your date."

Harry gasped. "But I don't have a corset to give to Parvati! What will I do?"

Ron shook his head sympathetically. "Oh, too bad. Ah well. Have fun explaining to Parvati. I've got things all smoothed over with Padma. With this corset, I seal my social fate!"

Harry's eyes took on a fevered gleam. "Must. Find. Corset."

* * *

Somewhere on the third floor...

Filch scratched his head, puzzled. "I was almost sure I left my corset here…"

"Meow," said Mrs. Norris.

"It's a manly corset! It defines my figure." Filch screamed.

"Meow."

"Well there's no need to take that tone."

"Meow."

"WHAT ARE YOU INSINUATING?!"

* * *

Harry giggled as he ran towards the dance, corset in hand. He couldn't fail now! Harry randomly opened a door; darkness cloaked the room inside. Heavy breathing ruffled Harry's messy jet-black hair.

"Wait…this isn't the elevator."

There was a growl.

"Nice Fluffy…good doggie! No! NOO! NOT THE CORSET!"

* * *

Harry emerged several minutes later to the Great Hall. His hair was slightly disheveled, but that was normal, so no one noticed. He was also holding a shredded corset, but since this was Potter, no one noticed.

"Harry! Um…Harry?" Parvati was standing by Ron and Padma.

Harry, gasping for breath, held out his gift. "I brought you a corset!"

Parvati raised an eyebrow with attitude. "Excuse me?"

Ron laughed nervously. "Funny thing, that. Guess what, it's actually called a corsage. Isn't that funny? Laugh with me, Harry! Ha ha ha…Harry, you're not laughing…"

"Ron…"

"Before you kill me, can I go profess my love to Murk really quick?"

Harry was staring at the staircase with his mouth open. "No, Ron. Look!"

Ron was sweating. "So you're going to push me down the staircase? Fair enough, fair enough. Maybe Murk will visit my grave…"

"No Ron! Look at what's on the staircase!" Harry pointed.

Ron looked bewildered. "Dust?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, a mop of course!"

Ron squinted in concentration. "What, you mean behind that hot girl that looks kind of like…HERMIONE?!"

"No, I mean over there by the janitor. Unless you were talking about the janitor of course, because I don't like to judge…"

Ron's mouth hung open. "No, look! Hermione!"

Harry, a little slow on intake, finally spotted Hermione coming down the stairs. "Whoa."

Hermione had somehow managed to bully her fro into a pleasing shape. She was wearing a pink dress with ribbons and not carrying a textbook of any kind. Except for So You Forgot How To Breathe?, but that was absolutely necessary and she had made an effort to glue some sequins to the cover for the occasion.

Hermione stopped in front of Harry and Ron. "Um, hi Harry. Ronald."

Ron's mouth was still open.

Hermione looked embarrassed. "That's a great dress robe, Harry. It matches your eyes."

Harry nodded. "So I've heard."

"But…what's with the corset?"

He sighed. "Long story."

Hermione blinked. "Well…why are you still holding it?"

"I dunno, after all we've been through together…I guess I've just gotten a little attached."

"Sure."

Ron's mouth was still open.

"So, Ronald, your dress robe looks…unique. Nice touch with the pudding. It's very you."

Ron squeaked.

"Right. So," Viktor Krum walked up to Hermione and bowed. Hermione took his arm and walked onto the dance floor. "I'll see you later then. It was nice to see you, Harry. And Ronald."

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HERMIONE?!" Ron shouted after her.

Harry frowned. "Ron, stop harassing Hermione."

Ron was foaming slightly at the mouth. "Stop harassing her?! Let's just list all the things that are wrong with this situation: One, Hermione's date is my one true love, Murk. Two, while she's got Murk I'm stuck with Padma—"

"—Hey!"

"—Three, Murk ignored my many proposals, but totally dumped me for Hermione. And last, but most definitely not least, WHY DIDN'T HERMIONE EVER TELL ME THAT SHE WAS A GIRL?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, she did. You just weren't listening." Harry's eyes got watery. "You see Ron, all you had to do was look past the beaver teeth and study manuals to see the totally hot, yet lonely girl inside that was waiting for you to make a move."

"But I didn't know about…the hair…and the dress…and the Hermione….and the Murk. Oh, if I had known about the Murk I would have asked her to the dance for sure!" Ron looked frantic.

"Do you think that's why she didn't tell you?" Harry nodded knowingly.

Ron snorted. "Oh, come on Harry. She's smart, but she's not inside my head!" He gasped. "Or is she?"

Padma threw up her hands in surrender. "Whatever Ron. I'm going to go get some punch. Oh, Harry, McGonagall wants to tell you something." Padma stalked off.

"MISTER POTTER, GET YOUR DATE AND GET ON THE DANCE FLOOR!"

Harry jumped. "What? Huh? Where's the fire?!"

"FIRE!" Johnson popped out of the holly.

McGonagall sighed. "Put the hydrant down Potter, there is no fire. I must have told you that each of the champions and their dates must open the Yule Ball with a dance!"

Parvati squealed. "It's a dream come true! The lights! The fans! Hollywood, here I come!"

Harry blinked. "No. You failed to mention that little detail."

McGonagall shrugged. "Oh. Well, now you know. So get out there."

Harry called after her. "No, you don't understand! I can't…dance."

Parvati's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Harry squirmed awkwardly. "Well…I get all nervous and I just sort of…collapse. It's a neurological thingy. Probably."

Parvati shrugged. "Whatever, let's go."

As Parvati dragged him onto the dance floor by his dress robes, Harry wondered what he had ever done to deserve his woeful life. All he had ever done was enjoy the company of his mops while everything happened to him. Well, he was tired of it! No longer would everything happen to Harry! Harry would happen to everything!

"I'm ready to Tango!" Harry shouted.

Parvati jammed her stiletto heel into Harry's foot. "No, you idiot, it's a waltz!"

Harry started to sweat. "But we didn't get to Waltzes, we only got to Tangos!"

"Just dance!"

Harry clomped awkwardly around the floor. Parvati curtsied, giggling girlishly. Harry copied her.

"No, don't curtsy! Bow!"

"Oh, right. Um..."

"Too late! Just…just watch what everyone else is doing!"

Harry stood there, watching Parvati do something complicated with her feet. And then she was spinning, and everyone else was spinning too. Except for Harry of course, who was just standing there stupidly. Harry thought that this was probably a very bad thing.

"Lift me up!" Parvati hissed.

Harry paled. "Merlin, why?"

"I don't know, just do it!"

Harry struggled. "I…I can't! My heroic arms are too weak!"

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Fine, then I'll lead!" She hoisted Harry above her head with one hand.

They proceeded to do several complicated dance moves. Parvati informed him of their names as they danced. They all sounded hard, and started with capital letters that, in Harry's experience, meant that whatever followed would be complicated and probably something Harry would fail miserably at. And then there was a lot of Chasseing and Sashaying and general running around very fast for no apparent reason.

"Um, Parvati?"

"What? You're doing fine. Just let me lead and get my picture taken."

"No, we've got a problem."

Parvati sighed. "What is it now?"

"My legs just collapsed."

"No! I'm not going to let you steal my spotlight! My dream!" So Parvati dragged Harry around the dance floor. It wasn't so bad, really. Actually, he felt a little bit like a mop. And from this position, he could see all the other champions. There was Cedric and Cho doing their little jungle dance. Curse your Scandinavian charms, Cedric! And there was Fleur dancing with…well…Harry didn't really know who her partner was because he was eclipsed by Fleur's beauty. Not that it really mattered anyways. After all, this was Fleur. And there was Krum and Hermione.

"Oh Viktor, this is just enchanting," said Hermione as she did some sort of intricate dance move that involved twisting herself into the shape of a pretzel while completing a double handspring.

"Mmmuh." Krum mumbled and waddled his duck feet.

"Yes. Isn't this a wonderful dance?"

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Oh, yes? I…I think so too. And the Great Hall! Doesn't it look wonderful?"

"Mmmmeh."

"And isn't Cho's dress divine?"

"Mmm…wait…" Krum's eyes slowly uncrossed and he stopped waddling. "Vat am I duink khere…unt who are oo…Vy…?"

Hermione quickly plucked a small potion bottle out of her handbag and emptied the contents into Krum's mouth. The bottle had little hearts on it and was producing pink smoke.

"You were saying, Viktor?"

"Mmmmuh?"

"Good." Hermione took out her book and removed the outer cover, revealing the title Love Potions Made Easy. "Aha! I did it! I don't need any breathing manuals! All I need is lov…ooovvv…oooooo."

While Hermione's face turned blue, Harry stared at a small bug with glasses and blonde hair that resembled Rita Skeeter climbing across the dance floor. That was odd. Why would a bug need glasses?

Finally, the dance finished.

"Oh good." Harry sighed. "We're done. Let's go get some punch!"

Parvati raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think so. You think I made myself look this good for nothing? We're going to dance the whole night, even if it kills you."

Parvati dragged Harry back out onto the center of the dance floor.

"But what about the punch?"

* * *

_**Oddly**_


	39. The Christmas Tooth Fairy

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Who of you are excited as I am at the announcement of the title of book seven? So, here's another chapter. Last we left Harry he was being denied liquids…

DISCLAIMER: I do not own badly written Japanese/English sayings or Loser

**Chapter 39: The Christmas Tooth Fairy**

"Please…" Harry moaned, separating his cracked lips. "Just a small cup…I promise I'll be quick…"

"No." Parvati growled, grabbing his chin and forcefully turning his head away from the punch bowl. "We, as a Triwizard Couple, have an image to up hold; we must support our school and uphold Gryffindor Houses' honor…"

"HOW CAN I HONOR ANYONE WHEN I'M A DEAD PRUNE?"

The Indian girl glared. "_You're making a scene."_

"A DEAD, DEAD, PRUNE!"

"Hey Harry, I thought that was you I heard." a strange African accent drifted over Harry's violent screams, and Cho appeared.

Harry smiled.

Cho turned and Cedric emerged, he hands placed on the Ravenclaw's waist.

Harry frowned.

"You look simply adorable, Cho!" Harry's dance partner squealed.

Harry sneered, "Yeah, nice stripes, Ced."

Cedric absent mindedly scratched his furry tux, then frowned at Harry. "Uh, nice…green—blue—brown—red—black—blue…robes? Uh, they match your eyes." The Pretty boy paused, then smiled brightly. "Hey! Have I ever told you how much you look like your father? But, your eyes, you have your mother's e—"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry waved him off as a couple small third years began violently seizing to the intense flashing colors of Harry's robes.

Cho smiled delicately. "We'll see you later, Pooter, I must dance with my one true love now."

Harry blinked.

"Actually…" Parvati spoke up. "His name's Potte—"

"Silence, woman!" Harry screeched, then waved at Cho's disappearing back. "I'LL WAIT FOR YOU!"

"Harry!"

The music had picked up again and a pair of students had tangoed near them.

"Oh, it's only you." Harry sighed as Parvati dipped him.

Ginny frowned, spinning in a circle around Neville, her date. "Yeah, well. How are you?"

"Oh, just perfecccccttt…" Harry was lifted into the air, then pranced about. "First I'm denied liquids, then the love of my life is dating the Monkey Man, and now I have to stand here answering stupid questions, just because you want to feel important and make small talk—AHHRRGGHH!"

Ginny had drove her four-inch heel into Harry's calf, then angrily trotted away, leading Neville quite like Parvati was leading Harry.

Parvati laughed lightly, "Oh, redheads…"

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?" Harry screamed, blood soaking the lower half of his dress robes. "SHE JUST CHOPPED MY TENDONS IN HALF! I'M RUINED! RUINED!"

"It's a wonder I even agreed to go to this thing with you, Harry! You're so over dramatic!"

"I'LL NEVER PLAY QUIDDITCH AGAIN!"

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson randomly sashayed by. "Hah! Potter! I'm in prime condition! I'll beat you yet!"

Lucius Malfoy sprang from out behind a decorated bush, swinging his cane. "HOW-MANY-TIMES-HAVE-I-TOLD-YOU-NOT-TO-BOAST-!" he yelled, bearing down on his son as Draco screamed, trying to block the blow with his only arm. "HOW-MANY-TIMES-!"

"Uh…" Harry and Parvati slow drifted away from the scene.

"Oh, look!" Harry pointed across the Hall. "There's Ron!" He quickly pulled away from his dancing partner before she could drag him away again.

"Hey Ron." Harry collapsed into a seat next to Ron.

Ron merely grunted, and raised a bottle of Butterbeer to his lips, the other fifty empty bottles rattling at his feet.

"I MEAN—" Ron suddenly spoke out, apparently continuing a rant that he never noticed Harry wasn't there for. "SO WHAT IF MINERVA DOESN'T LOVE ME? IT'S NOT LIKE I REALLY CARED." He glared and threw his bottle to the side.

"SEE IF I EVER GIVE YOU A PRESENT AGAIN!" he screamed in the teachers' direction.

Across the Hall Professor McGonagall glared at the two Gryffindor boys, throwing away a spring of catnip and a scratching post.

"DON'T EVER BUY WOMEN PRESENTS, HARRY." Ron turned now to his best friend, slowly tipping forward. "ALL THEY DO IS USE YOU."

"Hear, hear." Harry agreed, his bleeding leg sticking out in a wonky direction. He reached across Ron and grabbed his own bottle of Butterbeer. "I probably need some alcohol to heal my disturbed soul."

Ron nodded, then glanced down at his bloody leg. "DOESN'T THAT HURT?"

Harry shrugged, wiggling his toes. "Eh, who needs ten toes anyways?"

"Harry! Ron!"

Harry looked up, noticing Hermione erratically waving at the two of them.

Harry waved back.

Hermione continued to wave.

Harry waved some more.

Hermione still waved.

Harry raised his other arm and started waving some more. "Yes, yes, I'm acknowledging your presence, I'm including you as apart of the group, other people now see you're some one to know…and HERMIONE I SEE YOU, OKAY?" he screamed.

Hermione fluttered over. "Hey, you guys! Viktor has gone to get some drinks, what are you up to?"

Ron snorted loudly. "OH, 'VICTOR'S' GONE TO GET DRINKS, HUH? HAVEN'T YOU STARTED CALLING HIM VICKY YET?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, for one thing, his name is Viktor, with a 'K', and for another, it's Murky, not Vicky, okay? And stop speaking so loudly, we all know by now that you can't do anything properly, not even get drunk."

Ron threw his Butterbeer down on the floor with the rest of the bottles. "Well, fine! You go ahead! Fraternize with the enemy! He's only using you for Harry!"

"Harry?" Hermione laughed loudly. "And why would he want to know about Harry?"

"To get inside information on him! To jinx him!"

"He hasn't asked me one _single_ question about Harry! Not one!"

"Then he wants help on the egg!"

"This tournament is about friendship, Ronald! It's about getting to know different people, and make friends!"

"Oh, yeah?" Ron glared, now on his feet. "Then what does Krum want then? Because it obviously can't be because he likes _you_—"

Hermione's fist came flying out of no where, knocking Ron flat on his back.

Hermione smiled nervously, knocking a couple more third year students out that Harry's neon robes had missed.

"Woaha." Harry whipped on a pair of sunglasses. "Hermione…when did your teeth shrink…and when did they get so freakishly white?"

Hermione giggled, raising a hand to touch her mouth. "Oh, you know, Crest, magic, lies and betrayal of trust."

Harry nodded sagely. "But they are sparkly."

Ludo Bagman randomly staggered over. "I bet you, mine are better." He slurred.

Harry frowned. "Not if you're like every other normal English man here."

Ludo grinned. The awakening third years screamed and started to cry.

Ron laughed, slightly stunned, from the ground. "He has mold on his teeth!"

Hermione snarled. "Like the kind on your _face_?"

"What mold?"

"Attention, students!"

The group of wizards stopped and turned to look at Dumbledore, he was standing at the head of the room near the other teachers.

"Would the Champions and their partners please report to the head table, dinner is ready."

Well, food was an exciting topic, so the students and visitors of Hogwarts quickly, and loudly, rushed to their seats, Harry was dragged to his place of honor by Parvati.

Harry looked up and noticed he was seated by Professor Dumbledore and Percy Weasley. He frowned, like he often did, why wasn't Mr. Crouch here?

"Harry!" Percy turned, and smiled at his younger brother's only friend. "This is great, isn't it? I'm here filling in for Mr. Crouch, he isn't feeling too well, so I've been granted the honor of taking his place."

He elbowed Harry in a chummy-like fashion, knocking The-Boy-Who-Was-Still-A-Loser-In-Every-Matter, into his glass of water.

"What luck, eh? WE can only hope his sickness keeps up, and I'll gain even more power."

Harry laughed feebly, growing uncomfortable by the strangle twitch in Percy's hands.

"But seriously, Harry." Percy turned, now quite serious, staring wide-eyed at him, "What poison should I use to keep him out?" His hands flexed convulsively.

"Did some one say my name?"

A man with dark black hair popped up from under the table, wearing a name tag that said: Hi, I'm Snuffles.

Harry blinked at his godfather, then turned and looked at the Minister of Magic, who stood not fifteen feet away, trying to hide from all the leprechauns surrounding a nervous Bagman.

"No, I didn't say your name, but thanks for showing up just the same. I was bored."

Sirius nodded, then huddled down, so that his eyes were level with the table. "You think it might be dangerous to be here, kid?"

Harry laughed. "What are you talking about!"

Percy Weasley eyed this strange man, scowling, he was taking away one of the hand full of people that didn't call him Weatherby. "Isn't that Sirius Black, the escaped mass murdered?"

Sirius turned to look at the redheaded kid for the first time. "Course not, Weatherby." He told him, then turned back to Harry. "Listen, kid. It's great to see you and all, but I was really only here for the food." He grabbed an arm-full of roasted duck, potatoes, and apples. "See ya," and he was gone.

Harry sighed, now he was stuck with Percy and Parvati again.

Percy gapped, open-mouthed at the spot where Harry's godfather had disappeared. He turned to the people around him. "Did anyone see that? Come on! Sirius Black! He was just here! Don't tell me that no one saw that!"

"Shut up, Weatherby."

"Oh, COME ON!"

Parvati leaned over and whispered into Harry's ear. "That whole Weasley family is deranged, aren't they?"

"Yep." Harry smiled, looking down at Ron as he accused a passing Beauxbatons boy of stealing his dinner plate, then tackling him to the ground. "But we don't really include Percy." Harry continued. "Most of us don't really remember his name anyways."

"Hey, look! It's Weatherby!" Fred and George were passing the head table, when they noticed their older brother.

"Hey Weatherby!" George called up at him, waving. "And look, he's sitting next to Harry James Potter who was born on July 31, 1980."

Percy slumped into his chair and refused to talk the rest of the night.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore finally sat down, Harry excitedly looked to the table for some food. But there was none.

Harry twisted to look at his Headmaster, he didn't seem that surprised, but instead, picked up his silverware and looked down at his plate expectedly.

Harry sighed, he was afraid this would happen. But he would play along. So he picked up his silverware and started cutting at his imaginary steak. He nudged Parvati as he stuck an invisible carrot into his mouth. "It's good, you should try some Parvati."

His date eyed him in the wide-eyed girl message of 'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' or possibly: 'Stop embarrassing me.'

"Mister Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry looked up after Dumbledore addressed him, shocked to see real roast sitting on his professor's plate.

"I…uh…"

"Chicken." His date spoke clearly, and some poultry appeared on her plate; she sawed away at it viciously, while giving Harry the same look.

"Would you like to order some food now?"

Harry blushed, then shook his head quickly, pulling his plate nearer toward him. "I'll stick with what I'm having, thanks."

* * *

After the tables had been cleared away one last time, the main entertainment arrived, and the students wait eagerly around the impromptu stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Dumbledore walked onto the stage, his arms spread wide, appraising the group of students huddled and waiting for something finally _cool_. "I'm very happy to introduce the entertainment tonight, of whom I personally hired. So, without further ado, here they are!"

The curtains squeaked, and slowly raised, shaking off a layer of dust, to reveal…

"The CraZy PolkaZ!" Dumbledore beamed. "With two 'z's!" he added.

The student body was silent, staring at the people onstage, wearing suspenders, and nightgowns; and holding some banjos and accordions.

"Oh, no." a single voice cried out in the deathly silent room.

"Oh, I don't know…" A Hufflepuff sixth year squinted at the stage. "I thing the one in the sweater vest is kinda cute."

An old man with a harmonica strapped to his head and a cane, slowly scooted up to the microphone.

"Hello, young aliens." He wheezed. "I'm honored to be the first of my kind to be introduced into your society." He stopped to breathe. "As the first human being in the land of Whampawhampa, I will retell my life history, and move on to the Earth's history." He stopped to breathe once more, and held up his hands. "There is also a secret I would like to share with you all." He held up his wand. "This is called _MAGIC_, perhaps like your primitive beliefs in your god Turkaforta, it appears from _NOWHERE_. This is not true, but more about that latter in my life story. Now, I was born in 1734…"

"Acton!" An older woman holding a pair of spoons and wearing a lot of pearls screamed at her band partner. "We are not on Whampawhampa, we are at Hogwarts—!"

Acton slowly turned around to peer at the woman, his mouth clewing up and down. "Well of course we are, Hilda. Why, look at this Whampanese with the strange growing life form on his face."

"That's only Ron." Ginny Weasley called out.

Hilda, slowly, but obviously, noticed that she wouldn't convince him other wise, so choose a different tactic.

"Acton, talk to them later, they want to hear us play."

The Hogwarts crowd hesitantly cheered, they'd rather listen to polka then hear an old man ramble about the golden years.

"Oh, yes." Acton sluggishly turned back to face the crowd. "Uh, one, two,…uhhh…"

"THREE!" the crowd screamed.

"…three, four!"

In the confusion of the twangy banjo strums, Harry managed to slip away from Parvati once again, and went about to find Ron.

He found him in the back corner of the Hall, hiding behind a suit of armor.

"Ron?" Harry peered around the suit and took in Ron huddled fear. "What's wrong?"

Ron's eyes were huge, and he was shaking so bad that the lance rattled in the knight's hand; only one word passed his lips. "_Midgen…_"

"Eloise Midgen?" Harry questioned him, standing up straight. "Why are you so worried about he—"

"OH, NILLY BOY! COME OUT AND DANCE WIV DE MIDGEN!"

"Harry I'm scared." Ron whispered, frantically looking left and right.

"Don't worry about it Ron, she'll never find you."

"Harry! I don't think you understand, SHE'S GOT THE NOSE OF A BLOODHOUND!"

"THERE'S ME HONEY ROLL!"

Eloise Midgen bodily pushed Harry aside and lifted the armor off of the ground, revealing Ron curled up in a little ball. She took a hold of his left leg.

"HELP ME, HARRY!" He screamed, being pulled into the air. "SHE'S GONNA EAT ME!"

Harry could only stand back silently, as Eloise's massive unibrow glistened in sweat as Ron flailed in the air.

"NO ONE IS TO TOUCH THE HOLY ONE!" a battle cry rang out across the Hall over the wheezing of the accordion, and scrapping of the old fashion clothes washing board.

And then, propelled through the air, sprang a determined hobo, filled with righteous anger.

Ron was dropped on his head and rolled to the sidelines. The other students, abandoning the polka, moved and made a circle around the brawling couple. Ludo Bagman bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. "I bet you twenty gallons the hobo wins."

Harry made his way over to his brain damaged friend, and helped him to his feet.

Ron laughed slightly. "Elvis is dead, Sinatra in dead, and me, I feel also not so good."

Harry nodded encouragingly. "Of course, you do Ron, of course."

Hermione suddenly appeared, Krum standing dazed, behind her.

Ron felled forward on top of her and grinning bizarrely, grabbed onto her hair, trying to pull himself up. "Hello, lovely silly." He gushed.

Hermione gave Ron her Look. "Well, I just came back to tell you, Ronald, that you are a complete idiot, and that I happen to like Krum, and he feels the same way about me."

Krum's dazed look abruptly sharpened, and he glanced fearfully at Hermione, then made a break for it, Unfortunately, he was duck-footed and couldn't travel that fast. Hermione was atop of him in an instant, wrestling with him over a bottle she had in her hand, labeled: LOVE POTION.

Harry stared, confused. What was going on?

"NO!" Krum screamed fearfully. "WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHO ARE YOU!!"

While Harry was watching this scene, Ron had wondered off. Harry went searching for him after he saw Hermione shove the bottle down his throat, and plugged his nose.

"Take it like a good boy!" She coaxed, as Harry found Ron playing with food at a table ten feet away. "_TAKE IT_."

Harry reached him as he splashed someone's drink all across the table and onto the floor. Then he stiffened momentarily.

"Ron?"

"I spilled milk, on the table." He said quietly. "OH MY GOD!!"

Harry grabbed onto his friend's arm, and started dragging him to the door that lead out to the gardens. "Okay, time for a little air, Ron."

"I SPILLED MILK ON THE TABLE! I SPILLED MILK ON THE TABLE!"

Harry dragged Ron into a secluded spot, behind a huge reindeer statue. "Snap out of it!" he hissed, then slapped him. "I know you're faking it! She didn't drop you on your head that hard!"

Ron giggled, but said nothing else.

Harry sighed, and was about to get up to leave, but was stopped when he suddenly heard Hagrid's voice in the bushes across from them…

"Momen' I saw yeh, I knew," Hagrid was saying huskily to Madame Maxime, of which they were holding hands, and gazing at the stars.

Ron was pulling on Harry's ear. "HARRY! HARRY!" he tried whispering.

"_What?_" Harry hissed, trying himself to make sure no one could hear them.

"The pixies have spoken to me, Harry."

Harry paused. "Ron, seriously, are you okay?"

"Listen to the message, Harry. _Harry_. Harrrrry. HARRRRRRIIIIEEEEE—"

"OKAY, RON. OKAY!"

"Enchanted freaks, there is something going on, deep in the forest. So get ready for...INFINITY."

…

"What? The Forbidden Forest?"

_**CRASH!** Tinkle. Tinkle._

"DER SPIRITS!" Hagrid randomly screeched.

"What did you know, 'Agrid?" Maxime whispered, ignoring the sudden outburst and making eyes at their Grounds Keeper.

Harry blanched, he did not want to be with them on this date too. He had cleverly avoided hearing any disgusting remarks about true love that other night by beating the coyotes away from the couple, but this night he had nothing to distract him. Instead, Ron was giggling louder, and slowly falling down from his sitting position until he was pressed against the dirt.

Harry noticed a beetle with rhinestone glasses, and quill and paper, and decided to focus on that instead.

"'hat yeh a half-gian' like meh."

The little beetle cackled, scribbling faster.

Madame Maxime gasped in outrage, but who was she kidding? Unluckily Harry never heard her response, because at that moment, Snape pushed back the branches of the bush Harry and Ron was hiding behind. Ron giggled from his position on the ground.

"Potter, Weasley." Snape sneered, he was unmistakably on 'breaking-the-snogging-couples-up' duty. "Well, this is a surprise…"

Ron swiftly pushed himself up, and clutched onto Harry. "THIS MAN IS NOT A GAY."

Snape blinked.

Harry started crying into his hands.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." Snape hissed. "Now get out of my sight."

Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, pulling Ron along with him. However, before Harry and Ron made their way back into the Hall, Harry saw Karkaroff stalk up from behind Snape, murmuring to him.

"It's getting clearer, and clearer, you can't deny what's happening…"

"—then flee! But I will remain here…"

"But Severus—"

"Well, I've stolen all the bathroom tokens I need from little first years, and I get to use the golf course all I want, so it's really not that bad…"

* * *

Harry went into the brightly decorated Great Hall, with only one purpose in mind. Well, two: Get away from Snape, AND go to bed. Ron wasn't getting better, and the wound on Harry's calf was beginning to fester.

Still, Harry was stopped once again. This time by Cedric.

"Monkey boy." Harry stated.

"Hey, Harry." Cedric grinned. "Look, before I go to snog Cho senseless, I wanted to repay the favor you gave me."

Harry paled. "Hey, there's no way you can prove that I was the person that replaced all your loincloths with mops! There's no possible link…"

Cedric frowned. "What? No, about the tip on the dragons for the first task. But do you know about that? Because that just makes me…want to throw feces at someone." The fellow monkeys in the tree with him hooted their agreement.

"Anyways," Cedric continued. "Just take…a bath, okay?"

Harry could feel the dull ache of fear in his stomach. Had Ron's little comment about him being gay gotten out so fast?

"Uh, Ced, I like you and all, it's just—"

"No!" Cedric yelled. "Just listen to me. Take a bath, and—er—take the egg with you, and—er—just mull things over in the hot water. It'll help you think." Here he winked. "Trust me. Oh, and why don't you even use the Prefect's bathroom? The password is 'pine fresh'."

Harry gagged.

"Don't touch my soul." Ron cringed.

But Cedric didn't hear him or see their reactions, because he was swinging away, Cho wrapped around his arm like Jane from Tarzan.

Harry scowled. "Well, I wasn't expecting that."

"You know what you want, and what to expect. To run at one time, like a horse in the prairie."

Harry turned to look at his red haired friend. "Really, Ron. We need to get you some pills or something."

* * *

Harry and Ron were walking back into the Gryffindor Common Room when they ran into Hermione. Or really, Harry was dragging Ron by his ears, when they ran into Hermione. She was sitting by the fire, glaring moodily into the flames, an empty potions vial cracked and lying on the hearth, her sequined: So You Forgot How To Breathe? book resting on the end table.

"Hermione?" Harry quietly spoke up.

She turned, took one look at Ron, and threw her shoe at him.

Harry could see what this was turning into, so he dove out of the way, behind a couch.

"YOU UNBELIEVABLE PRAT!" She screamed, taking off her other shoe and throwing that one as well.

Harry could tell it was really bad, because she had picked up a pillow and started smothering Ron with it, while crying. "YOU RUIN EVERYTHING! _EVERYTHING!_"

Harry army crawled out from behind the furniture, then walked over to Hermione and 'gentle' pried Hermione off Ron. Well, not really, but after his second black eye, she got up.

"Hermione," Harry breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. "As much as I'd love to see you take Ron out, he's not well right now; you can beat the shit out of him tomorrow, on Christmas." Harry brightened up. "Would that make you happy?"

Hermione heaved, her fists clenching and unclenching. "_Go to bed_." She hissed. "_Both of you._"

Harry didn't waste any time, he quickly scooped up Ron's limp body and ran as fast as he could up to the Boys Fourth Year Dorms.

* * *

After the fifth bucket of freezing water, Ron woke right up.

"See?" Harry commented to a terrified Neville. "Nothing to worry about."

Ron lay gasping atop his bed.

"Ron, you back to normal?"

"Have the sugar plum fairies danced for us yet?"

Harry eyed him critically, trying to make up his mind. "Hmmm…possibly."

Neville peered over at the two boys. "You guys should go to bed, Santa Claus won't come until you're asleep."

Harry laughed loudly upon hearing this. "Ha! Oh, Neville, Neville, Neville…when will you learn? Santa Claus isn't real. He's a media-market image to entice wee little children with lies and falseness-ness."

Neville deflated. "Oh…"

"No," Harry continued. "Tonight I'm waiting for the Tooth Fairy. _She sees you when you're sleeping_." He nodded knowingly.

Seamus laughed from his bed.

Harry rounded on him. "DO YOU want to face her pliers of wrath?"

Seamus fell silent.

"I didn't think so!"

"And it's so late. But I'll wait. Through the long night with you. With you." Ron breathed from his bed.

Harry turned to look at him. "Okay, maybe you aren't back to normal yet." He shrugged and got into bed.

"Merry Christmas."

"I feel on the verge of going pleasant."

"That too." Harry added.

* * *

_**Siriusly**_


	40. Harry Potter and the Turkey Lifter

Happy 2007 everyone! And what better way to avoid New Years resolutions than to read another thrilling installment of That Loser?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own rights to the movie Airplane!, Six Feet Under, or to the website however I suggest that you check out all of them.

That Loser

**Chapter 40: Harry Potter and the Turkey Lifter**

"Good morning Harry. _Ron._" Hermione glared at Ron from behind the morning newspaper.

Ron drooled.

Harry carefully steered Ron into his seat at the breakfast table and then took his own seat next to Hermione.

Hermione picked at the sausage on her plate with a fork, trying desperately not to look at Ron.

"So, HARRY, did YOU have a nice time?"

Harry blinked. "Um. No."

Hermione frowned. "But you went with Parvati, didn't you? I saw you dancing and everything."

Harry shook his head and shuddered. "There was no love at that dance….or punch."

Hermione sniffed. "I had a pretty lousy time altogether."

Harry and Ron chimed in unison. "I had a pretty lousy time."

Hermione sighed. "When I said altogether, I didn't mean in unis…oh forget it."

"Well actually, Ron had a pretty lousy time too. You know, being dropped on his head and everything. I could swear that there's something wrong with him. We should take him to the infirmary."

Hermione put aside her anger for a moment and looked at Ron with concern. "What do you think it is?"

Harry sighed. "It's a room where students can get medical attention. But that's not important right now, we need to get him some help."

Hermione grimaced. "That's not what I meant. And I don't know. I mean, after all he did to me last night, I'm not sure that I can help him."

"Oh, Hermione. You just need to put your differences aside. Just forget about how Ron totally ruined your one special night with Krum, destroyed your self esteem, and ate your Arithmancy homework in a jealous rage."

Ron suddenly hiccupped. "The square of the thaumatergical pie equals apple," he hiccupped again. "No wait, lemon meringue."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that."

"So are you still mad about the whole dance thing then?"

Hermione snapped her fork in half. Her eyes slowly crossed and turned red while her fro steamed with righteous anger and a large amount of hairspray. A first year slowly toppled to the floor, overpowered by the fumes.

"You're still mad. Right, right. Could you pass the gravy?"

As Hermione handed Harry the gravy, its gray-brown contents boiled thickly with the heat of Hermione's rage.

"Hey Ron, you want some toast?"

"Let's eat breakfast firmly. If breakfast is said, it is bread, I am bread. Well eat."

"Fine, fine, I'm eating! Gosh, don't be so pushy, Bread." Harry stuffed potatoes into his mouth.

"Enjoying your last meal, eh Potter?"

Harry looked up, his eyes suddenly as full of anger as his mouth was suddenly full of potatoes. "THAT'S POOTER TO YOU MAL…wait, did you say Potter?"

"That's your name isn't it, dung brain?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really need to work on your insults."

"YOU'RE UGLY, GRANGER!"

Harry sighed. "So what was your point again? You've ruined my appetite."

"Actually, you could work on yours too, Harry."

Draco sneered. "I was just making sure you were ready for that second challenge. I've got a running bet with Ludo Bagman. That ridiculous clown bet that you would turn into a cabbage. I bet that you wouldn't even last five minutes!"

"I'd go with the cabbage theory," muttered Hermione.

Harry laughed. "Well, you're wrong! I have lots of toughness, you know, fiber. I eat bran. So not only will I last at least six minutes, but I will completely fail to turn into a cabbage!"

Hermione coughed.

"Oh, come on Hermione. That only happened twice! Anyways, my point is that I will defeat my opponents with my scathing wit and amazing hydration skills. I mean, did you see me handle that punch situation at the ball? I'm like a camel, or something!"

Malfoy jeered uncertainly. "Yeah, punch…right. If I were wittier I could make a rather amusing pun about that camel comment. But alas, I only inherited great hair and mysterious gray eyes." Draco dramatically threw a pale hand across his forehead.

Pansy Parkinson fainted. But don't worry, she was only faking. However she did hit her head pretty hard on the floor and spoke in gibberish for a few days.

"Ah yes, it's such a curse to be the prettiest character. As for Ron here," Draco laughed smugly, "I don't know how he can live with such horrible ugliness."

Ron turned his mold-covered face towards Draco placidly. "We do not like to be stared at with your eyes. Don't stare at Mister Monkey," he said quietly.

Everyone edged away from the insane Weasley. Draco stammered. "So, figured out that egg, have you?"

Harry scoffed. "Of course I have. What do you think I am, an idiot?"

"Um…yes. I thought that was the whole basis of our relationship. You know, I hate you, you hate me. I'm pretty, you're stupid. It's absolute fact! If that's not true…then what is?" Draco started to sweat. "I…I don't understand! What's going on?! WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!" He ran away in a panic.

Hermione cheered. "Well done Harry, nice use of reverse psychology!"

"Yeah, the foot's in the other hand now, eh Malfoy?!"

Hermione, to her credit, only paused in confusion for a few seconds. "Uh…yeah! You showed him!"

Harry punched the air. "Yeah, take that! Although your hair glows as if from inner health and vitality, at its roots, it just won't cut it when in fight with the Potter Intellect!"

"No, seriously, you need to work on those puns."

"The competition was tough, but I won by a hair!"

"Hot space station justice!" cheered Ron woozily.

Hermione and Harry stopped dancing.

"You know, I think you were right about there being something wrong with Ron…"

Harry happened to glance at the newspaper on the table. The front page headline read **_DUMBLEDORE'S "GIANT" MISTAKE_**. "Hey Hermione, look at the newspaper!"

"What about it?"

"It's white! With black letters on it!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Brilliant."

Harry gasped again, pointing to the front page. "And that's not all! Look at this!"

"What?"

"I said: And that's not all! Look a…"

"I meant what is it that you want me to look at?"

"I can bend my thumb completely backwards! And, wait, what's this?"

"WHAT IS IT?"

"A newspaper. Gosh Hermione, you sure are slow."

Hermione glared.

"Sorry Hermione. I meant this article. Look, it has Hagrid's name in it! Can they do that without asking?"

Hermione gasped. "No, look! Hagrid darkest secret has been revealed to the general public on the front page of a sleazy tabloid! This article exposes what I had guessed all along—Hagrid's half giant! But this article will destroy Hagrid! No parent will want their child taught by a giant…"

"Maybe we could ask Hagrid if they asked him."

"Don't be stupid, Harry. Rita Skeeter wrote this article, that witch!"

Harry looked around wildly. "That witch? Right there?! FOR HAGRID! ARGGGGHHHH!!!!" Harry jumped at a screaming witch at the next table.

"Harry, get off of Lavender."

Hermione frowned. "How could Rita Skeeter have known about Hagrid? Rita seems to hear a lot of private converstations around Hogwarts. There was an odd looking beetle around when I hugged Harry…and when Ron hugged Harry…and there was that same beetle at the Yule Ball…I'm so close to solving this mystery that I can almost taste it!" Hermione stuffed her mouth full of potatoes and chewed thoughtfully. "Ron! Can you remember any other times when you've seen a blonde beetle?"

Ron opened his mouth.

Hermione leaned forward. "Yes?"

"In…"

"YES?!"

"In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. And he told us of his life, in the land of submarines…"

Hermione blinked. "Right. Ron first, revenge later."

"We all live in a yellow submarine!!!" screamed Ron as Hermione dragged him towards the infirmary by his mold-covered ear. "Noooooooooo!"

* * *

Hermione stomped back into the Great Hall a few minutes later. "Really Harry, you seriously need to get off of Lavender."

Harry blushed. "Yeah, obviously. Of course."

Hermione tapped her foot. "Coming?"

"Right behind you. Bye Lavender."

Lavender sighed happily. "Oh, Harry! I never knew you cared!"

* * *

After a short stay in the infirmary, Ron was as good as new. Though new was never exactly a well-oiled machine…

"I feel like a well oiled machine!" said Ron to Hermione and Harry as they trudged towards their Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

Hermione frowned. "Ron, are you sure that you're feeling all right?"

"Sure I'm sure! It's great to be alive! And sane! And Irish!" Ron did a little jig as they approached Hagrid's hut. "Hey, where's Hagrid?"

A prim older woman stood in front of the students holding a roll of parchment.

Ron stomped up to the new teacher. "Why are you teaching what Hagrid usually teaches? Why are you standing where Hagrid usually stands? Why are you wearing what Hagrid usually wears?!"

The woman blushed. "Well, I just thought it would, you know, help the class adjust. I am your new teacher, Professor Greville-Pipe. Today we will be learning about birdwatching. So, everyone pick up your binoculars and let's start birdwatching!"

Harry gasped. "Wow, birdwatching! There's a Yellow-Kneed Marmalade! And the elusive Walnut Warbler—it's made of real walnuts!"

There was an enormous crunch, and Ron's mouth was suddenly full. "Mmm…walnutty."

Harry sniffled, his eyes huge and brimming with tears. "My warbler…"

Ron shrugged. "Hey, I didn't eat breakfast…actually, I think that I made finger paintings with it…"

"My warbler…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh grow up, Harry. Ooh, birdies!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "The natural balance of nature has been upset. There is only one solution—we need to get Hagrid back."

Ron shrugged while stealthily following another Walnut Warbler. "But don't you think that it's kind of…better without him? There's no more blast-ended skrewts or flobberworms or anything." Ron pounced, and there was a flutter of nutty wings. "Darn it!"

"Look at yourselves!" said Hermione. "You're stalking walnuts and Harry's bawling his eyes out about losing his warblers! This is not natural!"

"I dunno, seems pretty normal to me."

"Harry, oh Harry! Might I have a quick word with you?" Rita Skeeter hobbled across the field leading to Hagrid's cottage. "We never got to finish our interview! So, how does it feel to finally be out from under the excessively large thumb of a mentally unstable freak of nature?"

Harry sniffed. "I feel so cold inside."

Rita's Quick-Notes Quills squiggled rapidly. "So Harry, have you figured out the clue for the second challenge yet?"

"Of course I have! Stop bothering me, geez…"

"YOU WICKED WOMAN!" screamed Hermione at Rita Skeeter. "You got Hagrid fired! And his replacement is not only a better teacher, but much safer and more interesting! Now there isn't anyone to understand my feelings when I'm feeling inadequate and misunderstood!" Hermione glowered. "You evil witch."

Rita Skeeter sneered. "I know things that would make your hair lay completely flat and turn a pleasing shade of honey-blonde!" She sniffed. "We'll talk later Harry. And as for you, I would watch what you say, Miss Granger. I am The Press! THE TRUTH WILL BE REVEALLED!"

Ron giggled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up and go back to chasing warblers."

"She said 'things'! AHAHAHA!"

* * *

"Hermione, I really don't think that this SPEW thing is a good idea." Harry waited awkwardly outside of the girls' restroom.

Hermione stuck her fingers down her throat and gagged. "Nonsense! It helps me keep my girlish figure!"

Ron gasped. "I want to keep MY girlish figure!" Ron jammed his fist into his mouth. "Mmmmpff!"

Hermione sighed. "That's not how you do it, Ron. It's more like this…" Hermione demonstrated.

Harry shook his head sadly. "Poor Hermione…you technique is seriously lacking. It's all in the wrist, really."

Ron cheered. "I did it! Couture fashion, here I come! Oh look, Hermione's Arithmancy homework!"

After the golden trio had finished emptying their golden stomachs into the sinks of the Girls' Bathroom, the conversation turned to more disturbing topics.

"I've come to a decision. We've got to go talk to the houselves. Today!"

Harry and Ron groaned. "Oh, come on Hermione, not again! They don't want your help! Last time you tried to trick them into taking clothes, they came after you with torches and pitchforks."

Hermione's eyes teared up. "But they did it out of _gratitude_, the sweet little dears! I think it's a cultural thing, really."

Harry shrugged. "I don't see how you're going to talk to one. Every elf in the building has been avoiding you like the plague."

Hermione sniffed. "Well, we'll just have to find them, then."

"But they'll be on you like decomposing flesh on a leper! Like spots on a leopard! Like matches on a pyromaniac!"

"Yes, Harry, thank you for the similes. But I think I know just where to find the elves."

'Like mattresses on…more mattresses."

Hermione's eyes were bright with some sort of crazy plan. "Harry, do you still have the Marauder's Map?"

Harry pulled it out of his pocket. "Like fleas on butter!"

Hermione nodded. "Yes….what? Anyways, we're going to go to…The Kitchens!"

Ron squealed. "Wow, I've never been in The Kitchens! That's, like, The Promised Land of the Weasleys! For many generations my people have quested to find the Kitchens of Endless Bounty, but have quested in vain. At last! I shall be the first of the Weasleys to sample its sweet fruits!"

Hermione sighed. "Relax Ron, it's just a kitchen."

Ron gasped. "Shun the nonbeliever!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, just don't get in the way when I trick…I mean persuade with sound reason…the elves into taking these lovely scarves that I've knitted."

Ron whispered into Harry's ear conspiritally, glaring at Hermione. "I hear it's flowing with milk and honey!"

Harry frowned. "Sounds sticky. But, that's okay, I'll come too. For some reason, I'm absolutely starving…"

**

* * *

**

Hermione stopped in front of a large painting of fruit in a bowl. "Well, this is it!"

Ron chuckled. "Hermione, this isn't The Kitchens."

Harry nodded seriously. "This is a painting…of a bowl of fruit."

Hermione winked. "Aha, or is it!" Hermione tapped the painting with her wand, and it flew open to reveal a hive of activity.

The Howarts kitchens were full of busy houselves. There were acres of apples, bushels of bagels, cups of corn chips, dozens of donuts, excesses of English muffins, farms of fries, gobs of gorgonzola, hatfuls of herring, infinite amounts of ice cream, jetties of jellies, kernels of kiwi, lands full of lettuce, mountains of macaroons, nets of nuts, ounces of olives, pounds of pot roast, queues of quiche, rivers of raisins, stockings of sauerkraut, turbines of turnips, umbrellas of unsalted peanuts, vaults of veal, warships of walnuts, xylophones, yams, zebras, and all other sorts of delicious alphabetical delicacies.

Harry and Ron were still examining the portrait.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno Hermione, it still looks like fruit to me."

"There's a nice even brushstroke, though. And look at the shading on that plum."

Hermione sighed and slowly turned them to face the glowing splendor of the kitchens. "Idiots."

Ron's jaw dropped. "THE PROMISED LAND!"

"Yes, very good Ron. Now, you two stay here and try not to touch anything while I set the little elves free…_whether they want to be or not_! Bye!" Hermione cackled, her arms full of badly knitted scarves and sweaters.

Ron sighed happily, cradling a hat full of herring. "This is twice as good as I thought it would be!"

Harry nodded, smiling knowingly. "Maybe even _three_ times as good!"

"Uh…sure."

Harry gasped. "Hey, look at this!" Harry picked up a small chrome appliance with three sharp prongs.

Ron frowned. "What's that?"

"It's a turkey lifter! Or a silver pitchfork for a rich midget farmer…"

Ron looked around at the bounty of weird looking cooking equipment. "It looks like a crime scene! I mean, come on Harry, some of these things look seriously diabolical!"

Harry put down the gleaming five-inch kitchen knife he had been inspecting. "Honestly, Ron. That's ridiculous."

"No, look at this thing." Ron held up a conglomeration of spiked wheels with a crank handle. "Mwahahaha! I am Ronald Leatherface, the Chainsaw Murderer!" Ron stopped a passing elf with a tray full of macaroons. "Are you ready to die, punk?"

The elf squeaked.

Harry sighed. "Ron…that's an eggbeater."

"Oh. Right." Ron laughed nervously. "Sorry…"

The elf threw a macaroon at Ron's head and ran away sobbing.

The macaroon bounced off of Ron's head with a hollow thunk. "Harry, I would appreciate you not mentioning this to Hermione."

Suddenly, from far away, an elf screamed.

Harry gasped. "Trouble! Let's go, Ron!"

Ron sniffed. "Fine. But I'm keeping the eggbeater."

**

* * *

**

When Harry and Ron arrived at the scene of the screaming, eggbeater whirring in preparation for eggy justice, they were a little disappointed.

"No!" squeaked the elf, "Dipsy doesn't want to be freed!"

Hermione held out the knitted beanie. "Please, I just want to help you!"

Dipsy sniffed. "Come on Lala, Po, let's get back to work."

"Harry Potter, sir!" cried a small voice.

Harry paled. "Oh no."

"What?" Ron looked around, cranking the eggbeater protectively. "Show yourselves!"

"No Ron…it's….it's…"

"HARRY POTTER, SIR! IT'S ME, DOBBY!" A long gray-brown finger tapped Harry on the knee.

Harry sighed, and turned around. "Yes, hello Dobby. How are you? Care to try to kill me again?"

Dobby laughed. "Oh, Harry Potter sir has the most noble sense of humor! No, Dobby just wanted to say hello and to ask sir if he had figured out the clue of the golden egg yet?"

"Of course I have! Can people just stop asking me that?!"

Dobby cringed. "Dobby is sorry, sir. Dobby just wants to help!"

Harry twitched. "Of course I've solved the egg. Yeah. Solved it…"

Hermione stamped her foot. "Elf, cast off your shackles! I just want to help you with SPEW!"

Ron nudged Hermione with his elbow. "Hermione! Not in here, it's The Kitchens! You can't SPEW on holy ground!"

Harry and Ron each took an arm and dragged Hermione out of the kitchens. "I'll be back, elves! I shall not abandon you! HOUSELVES…TEAR DOWN YOUR WALLS!!!"

After the portrait closed, Hermione shook herself free. "I can't believe you didn't back me up in there! I thought you cared about SPEW!"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, SPIT, right." Harry just couldn't deny the need to figure out the egg clue any longer. He had to act. After all, the challenge was a day away. He would just have to take Cedric's hint, no matter how much it scared and disturbed him, and check in the Prefect's bathroom.

"It's SPEW, not SPIT!"

Ron chuckled. "Hermione, you should not go into advertising. I mean, really. SPEW? Not very attractive.

"Well, you guys have fun fighting this out," said Harry.

Hermione frowned. "Hey, where are you going? I need someone to help me make more SPEW buttons!"

"Sorry, Hermione," said Harry seriously. "I've got a date…a date with a golden egg and a man named Cedric."

Ron reached into his robe. "So, do you want to borrow the eggbeater?"

**

* * *

**

Harry crept along the wall, inching towards the Prefect's Bathroom with the eggbeater in hand. If this was Cedric's twisted ploy to take advantage of a helpless younger student, he was going to be ready!

When Harry reached the door, he gulped. "Pine fresh." Harry gagged. "I feel filthy…"

The door swung open and Harry stepped inside. Very carefully, he turned on the water, stepped out of his robes, and got into the hot water.

At this point, every hormonally imbalanced preteen girl wets herself with glee and passion. However, we seem to forget that a. Harry is gross and ugly, b. this movie is PG-13 and has no nudity, and c. J.K. Rowling is does not cater to fanfiction and will not write a steamy love scene. So, let's get back to the story, shall we? And please, if this admonition applies to you…try to control yourself.

Harry grabbed the egg and stared at it quizzically, trying to figure out how exactly would be the best way to mull it over in the hot water, when he heard a noise. Harry jumped. It must be Cedric, the sick fiend! "Cedric?"

Something creaked. "I've got an eggbeater, and I'm not afraid to use it!"

A dark shadow poured from one of the stalls.

"CEDRIC! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! I _HEARD _YOU, AND I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT ALTHOUGH I CONSIDER YOU A GOOD FRIEND AND A STERLING HUMAN BEING ALL AROUND, EVEN THOUGH THE FACT THAT YOU STOLE MY GIRL HAUNTS ME EVERY WAKING SECOND, I DO NOT LIKE YOU THAT WAY AND I SUGGEST THAT YOU PURSUE SOME OTHER WORTHY YOUNG MAN. MIGHT I SUGGEST SEAMUS? HE ASKED ME TO ASK BLAISE OUT ONCE…but of course that's still a bit of a mystery. TAKE SEAMUS, TAKE RON! TAKE BLAISE…well, maybe. ANYONE BUT ME!!!"

"Hello Harry."

"**_YOU'RE THAT WAY?_**

_**THAT'S OKAY!**_

_**BUT I MUST SAY**_

**_THAT I'M NOT GAY!_**"

"No, Harry, you silly. It's me, Myrtle!"

Harry sighed with relief. "Oh, Myrtle. That's fine then. Wait…MYRTLE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE BOYS BATHROOM!"

Myrtle gave Harry a ghostly frown. "Why are you yelling?"

Harry shrugged. "BECAU…because I just got used to it, I guess. Sorry. Hey Myrtle, I'm having trouble figuring out this egg. Can you help?"

"Oh…I can help." Myrtle swooped closer, fluttering her ghostly eyelashes. "I've found some polyjuice potion in the pipes recently…have you been at it again?"

"No, I don't have a problem!"

Myrtle gasped. "Then there must be someone at Hogwarts who isn't who they seem. How exciting!"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Now, please help me. But don't look! I'm a little shy, okay? I have self esteem issues!"

Myrtle smiled coyly at Harry. "Open it. That's what the other boy did…Cedric."

Harry popped the egg open, and the bathroom was filled with a horrible screeching.

Harry shut the egg again. "That wasn't right. Maybe if I open it like this."

_SKREEEEEEEEEE!!!!_

"Like this?"

_SKREEEEEEEE!!!_

"With a little more wrist?"

_SKREEEEEEEE!!!!_

"With a little bit more mulling action?"

_SKREEEEEEEEEE!!!_

"HARRY!" Myrtle yelled. She immediately cleared her throat. "Yes, well. Why don't you try opening it UNDER the water?"

Harry snorted. "That's totally ridiculous. But fine…I'll humor you if it makes you feel better. Under the water? Honestly!" Harry laughed nervously.

Myrtle frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Um…nothing. I just don't really like water." Harry blinked. "So… you said under the water? Right…right." Harry took a deep breath, held his nose shut with two fingers, and dunked his head underwater. Carefully, he cracked the egg open, ready to hear the horrible screeching again. Instead, a strange song floated from the egg.

**Come seek us where our voices sound,**

**We cannot sing above the ground,**

**And while you're searching, ponder this:**

**We've taken what you'll sorely miss,**

**An hour long you'll have to looo-ooooooook,**

**And to recover what we took,**

**But past an hour—the prospect's black,**

**Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.**

**So stop listening to our pretty song,**

**Get out of the bath and run along.**

**Hurry up and solve the clue,**

**And if you don't then you're a stupid, worthless piece of rubbish, and we'll fold you into a pretzel and throw your broken carcass back onto the land where you belong, and you'll never see what we took again, in fact, you'll never see anything again, because you'll most likely be dead, and starting to rot and turn bluuuuuueee,**

**So now you know what you must doooooooo….**

There was a sound like a record scratching, then the background harp music started up again.

**Come seek us where our—**

Harry burst out of the water, gasping and vomiting water out of his saturated lungs.

Myrtle sighed. "You look so hot when you're drowning…"

Harry gulped air. "How long was I down there? It must have been at least an hour!"

"Thirty seconds."

"Right, right. So, what was the song talking about?" Harry coughed wetly.

Myrtle raised an eyebrow and craned her neck towards a giant stained glass window of a mermaid that happened to be conveniently placed right in front of the bath.

"Huh?"

Myrtle sighed. "You know…on the window?"

Harry squinted. "Um…glass?"

"NO, THE MERMAID!"

Harry frowned for a second. "Oh!" He smacked his forehead. "Of course! Well, uh…thanks for the help, Myrtle. I'm just going to go now…"

Myrtle gasped. "No! Don't you want to hear it again? Cedric listened to it at least ten times."

Harry frowned. "So?"

Myrtle grinned. "Nearly all the bubbles were gone…"

Harry blinked. A bubble popped.

Myrtle giggled.

"Uh, STAY BACK, I HAVE AN EGGBEATER HERE!"

**

* * *

**

A few hours later, Harry showed up back in the Gryffindor Common Room, dripping, shivering, and clutching half of an eggbeater. "She was…too strong…"

"Harry! Where have you been?" Hermione stuck a SPEW pin on Harry's robes.

"Ow! No Hermione, we've got to start looking for a way to breathe underwater. The second challenge is mermaids!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'we'?"

Harry shrugged. "You know, we! You and I…us and him…everyone, together?"

"Why do you immediately assume that I'll help you?"

Harry blinked. "Because you don't want the guilt of my horrible, bloody death on your hands."

Hermione sighed. "Oh fine. We'll start tomorrow."

"But…"

"Don't press your luck, Potter. I only have so much guilt for being a part of your stupidity. Now, help me with these SPEW buttons. Ronald, wake up."

Ron snorted in his sleep. "No, no more pins, momma. I'm feeling much better…NO MORE PINS!"

**

* * *

**

The next morning, Harry was a nervous wreck.

"The challenge is today, and I've got nothing!" Harry's hands shook, spilling all the eggs off of his quavering fork.

Hermione smiled. "Oh relax, Harry. Right after breakfast we're going to go to the library. And of course I assume that you've already got some ideas. You've been telling everyone that you know exactly what you're going to do."

Harry laughed nervously. "Yeah…about that…"

"Paper's here," said Ron, gulping gravy. "Maybe there's something else about Hagrid."

Hermione grabbed the newspaper. "Oh no."

Harry waved his arms. "Hello?! Let's prioritize here—I'm going to die, and Hagrid's already sacked, so that's all right. Less paper reading, more action!"

Hermione gasped. "Look, Rita Skeeter wrote an article about me!"

Ron snorted. "What, did you get Young Witch of the Year, again?"

"Read it."

**Harry Potter's Secret Heartache**

**A young girl of seven like no other, perhaps—yet a girl suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents at the hands of an evil loan agent, seven-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Unfortunately for the poor besotted boy, Hermione Granger, a horribly ugly but ambitious ogre, seems determined to add one more trophy boyfriend to her shelf of famous wizards. Since Viktor Krum arrived at Hogwarts, the unscrupulous hag has dogged his every step, while an oblivious Harry had no idea of her actions. While playing both boys affections, Granger has accepted an invitation to visit Krum during the summer. However, many students at Hogwarts have begun to doubt Hermione's means of obtaining the affections of these two fabulous wizards. Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, thinks that Granger may have used a Love potion to ensnare both boys. Love potions are banned at Hogwarts, so I'm sure that Dumbledore will investigate these reasonable claims immediately. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate. Below is Hermione Granger's address if you should wish to send her any comments.**

Ron gasped. "Hermione, this is horrible! She's made you out to be some sort of…of scarlet woman!"

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Scarlet woman?! What are you, like eighty?"

Ron blushed as scarlet as a scarlet woman. "That's just what my mum calls them!"

Harry snorted.

"Thanks Ron," said Hermione, trying to hold back a giggle, "but this article isn't serious. If that's the best that she can do, I'm not worried." Suddenly a slew of owls dropped their packages on Hermione.

"Hermione!"

"Ouch!" Hermione rubbed her head. "What are these?" She opened the first letter, breaking the red seal with an angry face stamped into it. Yellow goo immediately spilled from the letter onto her hands. Hermione screamed.

"It's…uh…yellowy stuff!" said Ron worriedly.

"Bubotuber pus," hissed Hermione as her hands erupted in large boils. "What does the letter say?"

Harry carefully unfolded the letter.

_MiSs GRanGER,_

_HoW cOUld yOU HurT SuCH A sWEet BoY? I Have SeNT yOU a WaRNIng, aND I wOUld HaVE SenT yOu A CURsE, bUT I CoulDn'T FiND tHE riGHT oNE. I WiLl SENd iT lATer iN ThE WeEK. PleAse lET ME KnoW iF It ARRiveS, tHe MaiL hAS BeEN a LittLE UnreliABle LaTELy._

_HaRRy'S BiGGeST FaN_

Hermione gasped. "Ginny, how could you?!"

Ginny sniffed. "You hurt Harry, you scarlet woman!"

Harry patted Hermione supportively on the shoulder. "Let's not open anymore mail today. There could be some serious curses on some of these. So, instead of wasting your day getting even more giant boils, let's go to the library and find out how to survive the second challenge, eh?"

**

* * *

**

"There isn't anything in any of these books about breathing underwater!" Harry banged his head against Aquatic Mysteries and Magicks of the Second Age: How to Do Everything But Breathe Underwater.

Hermione shrugged. "The only thing that has come up is how to curse your opponents so that they suddenly can't swim. But that's not legal, they'll throw the book at you."

Harry nodded. "Unless the book is a Bible, because that would be sacrilegious."

"Not helping, Harry. There must be something, we're just not looking hard enough. Ron, you try The Deep Sea Diving Guide for the Modern Wizard, and Harry, you read Swimming with Sausages."

Harry pouted. "But that's a Lockhart book! I don't want to read about Lockhart's favorite type of curtains for six hundred pages!"

"Deal with it. I'll start Gillyweed and Other Fresh-Water Wonder Herbs."

"I'm afraid not," said a high voice from behind Hermione.

"Professor Dumbledore!" said Harry, "What's wrong?"

Dumbledore flipped down the kickstand of his plastic tricycle, his lip trembling. "My propeller hat broke." Dumbledore held up a mangled pile of felt and a single dented propeller blade.

Hermione frowned. "What happened?"

"I think Minerva sabotaged my hat, but I have no proof of course," Dumbledore said, looking around shiftily.

"But why would she want to sabotage—?"

"I'm afraid there's no time to talk right now. Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, will you come with me, please?"

"But why?" Harry protested. "I really need them to find out…I mean…help me study."

"I am sorry, Mister Potter. You're just going to have to study on your own. All right everyone, hop on the tricycle, and we'll be off!" Dumbledore smiled and patted the seat. "Come along now, we can't be late."

Ron and Hermione awkwardly got onto the back of the tricycle.

"Good luck, Harry!" said Hermione. "Don't give up!"

"Tally Ho!" screamed Dumbledore, pedaling off. "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

Harry sobbed uncontrollably into Snorkeling with Simpletons. "Now I'm really going to die! There's no hope!"

"Hey Harry!" said Neville.

"No way out!"

"I just wanted to talk to you about gillyweed! It's great stuff, you know, and it's in this book that Moody gave to me."

"I'm in a dark tunnel, but wait…I can see the light!"

"You should consider using it in the next challenge. It helps you breathe underwater!"

"Yes, head towards the light."

Neville shrugged. "Well, whatever, Harry. I'll see you in five minutes at the challenge!"

"The Pearly Gates! At last!"

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry snapped out of his revelry. "Dobby?"

Dobby clapped his hands in glee. "Harry Potter remembered! Yes, Dobby has something that might help Harry Potter in the next challenge. It's gillyweed, sir. It helps a person breathe underwater!"

Harry gasped. "Wow! Why hasn't anyone told me about this yet?"

**

* * *

**

Harry and Neville stood on the platform, looking down into the dark, menacing water of the Lake. "I don't like this one bit, Neville."

"It'll be fine Harry! With that gillyweed you'll be absolutely fine!" Neville watched as Dumbledore ambled to the edge of the platform. "Hey, I think you'd better eat it now. Dumbledore's about to blow the whistle."

With disgust, Harry extracted the mass of gillyweed from his pocket. He hurriedly crammed the slimy mass into his mouth and swallowed slowly. The gillyweed felt like a slug sliding down his throat. Harry gagged. "I think I'm going to puke. SPEW, actually. Ha. Ha ha. I made a pun." Harry laughed nervously.

Neville nodded encouragingly. "Yes, very funny. Now don't worry Harry, everything will be fine!" Neville made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arms, knocking Harry off of his feet and into the water just as the whistle blew.

Harry screamed not only because he was suddenly without solid ground under his feet, but because something strange was starting to form on his neck.

Neville gasped and ran to the railing. The only sign of Harry was a giant ripple. Neville started to breathe heavily. "OMG, I killed Harry Potter!"

**The Harry Alarm** went off somewhere in the Hogwarts halls.

"NOOOOOOO!!!" Voldemort screamed from the crowd. "I WANTED TO KILL POOTER! It was MY idea in the first place!" Voldemort pouted. "Wormtail, why do people have to die?"

Wormtail shrugged. "To make life more important, I suppose."

"No, I mean, why do the people I want to kill always end up dead before I can kill them?"

"Because you're a fetus, and your puny widdle baby legs can't get you to you enemies fast enough. Let's face facts, Tommy. You're just a tiny little man, and you need your sleep. Come on, it's nap time."

"But I want to see the rest of the Challenge!" whined Voldemort. "Five more minutes!"

**

* * *

**

_**Oddly**_


	41. Magically Delicious

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY -streamers go off in background- Yeah…no one cares about this holiday. So, I bet you thought I was never going to update, huh? WELL YOU'RE WRONG. SO STAND THERE IN YOUR WRONGNESS AND BE WRONG!! UH…YEAH!

That Loser

**Chapter 41: Magically Delicious **

Harry, like any other normal person pushed into a body of water by an uncaring sibling, or a parent trying to connect with their inner child—just sit them down and tell them NO—, whipped his head out of the water and gasped like a vacuum cleaner.

Trouble was, he had gills.

Trouble was, he was Harry.

Trouble was, he was still trying to suck some air.

Trouble was, he was turning purple.

Luckily a stranger in the crowd, that looked strangely like a bald baby squirrel, kindly lent a hand and pushed him back into the water. By dropping a rock on his head.

Once submerged under the icy depths, Harry immediately got a quick shot of oxygen, sparking a jolt in his brain. He floated there for a minute, waiting for his right hand to stop shaking from the hyperventilation.

Once he was done tripping, Harry peered at himself, inspecting his new 'water-breathing' body.

It was strange. He knew that the gillyweed enabled him to breathe under water, but he didn't remember any descriptions about gills and webbed appendages.

He watched a three-eyed fish swim by, his head encased in a half-empty potions vial.

Must be from the radioactive nuclear decay.

Well. Where did you think they tested those first A-bombs? The United States' desert? That's a laugh.

* * *

"_DUN…DUNDUNDUN…da.da.da.da.DA!"_

"And we're live, in five…four…three…two…one…"

"Good morning, Hogwarts!" The young blonde witch with the pixie haircut swiveled around in her seat, quickly shuffling papers. "And we're back for the Official Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. I am your host, Martha Glennings." She paused to smile. Behind her, a huge logo boasted the wall; five entwined rings, with big signs covering two of the rings:

**JUST IMAGINE THESE AREN'T HERE.**

On the corner of the logo, someone had tried badly scratching off the OLYMPICS emblem.

"Today, we have the special privilege of interviewing one of the Triwizard Judges, and a former England Wasp's Beater! May I introduce…LUDO BAGMAN!"

Ludo jumped into view, flashing his boyish-good looks and waved at the crowd.

Martha turned towards him as he settled down in a spare seat. "So Ludo, do you enjoy being one of the Triwizard Judges?"

Ludo smiled. "You bet I do."

"Yes," Martha gave an encouraging laugh. "And I'm sure every is happy you're—" She stopped as she felt Ludo reach across and put his hand on her arm, his smile gone.

"You bet, I do." He repeated, his eye twitching. "And I do! PAY UP."

There was an awkward silence as the two adults stared silently at each other.

Martha was the first to crack.

"Ahhh!" Martha pasted her smile back on. "You must be joking about all those rumors circulating about you—"

There was suddenly a loud scuffling noise, some screaming, and a young man busted threw the impromptu wall set up behind the anchor, and leapt onto Martha's desk, stretching out his microphone-filled hand towards the guest speaker.

"And what do you have to say about these nasty and heinous rumors, Mr. Bagman?" The young man earnestly questioned him, plaster littered in his hair.

Martha's perfect smile slipped as she glared at the newcomer. "MERLIN, MARTY! WE JUST FIXED THAT WALL!"

Ludo, now utterly confused by the sudden activity, resorted to what cats do in the same situation. He began to quickly groom himself.

"Well, Mr. Bagman!?" Marty screeched as Martha tried to wrestle him off her desk.

"DON'T ANSWER THE QUESTION!"

"WELL?" Marty was gaining ground…desktop…as he wriggled closer. "Is it true the goblins and leprechauns are after you because you won't pay up? Answer me! PUT DOWN THAT COMB!"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Bagman…" Martha gasped as she struggled to rip Marty off her desk. "He's the new intern…idealistic…you know the type…"

Ludo smiled hesitantly. "…you bet I do?"

"AhhhHhA!" Marty yelped as Martha drove an elbow into his kidney. "DO WE REALLY? THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE, MR. BAGMAN!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" the anchor now had her hands wrapped around his forehead. "Mr. Bagman isn't being tracked by the Goblin Mafia!"

"Ahhem."

The tiny cough came from the corner of the set, fifty or sixty goblins and leprechauns were hiding behind a small fichus plant. The three humans stopped to stare.

Marty was the first to recuperate. "AHHA! JUSTICE WILL BE DONE!"

Martha let go of her death hold on her intern and straightened her jacket. "Who are you? How did you get on this set?"

There was much shuffling of feet and hiding of battle axes behind backs, even some nervous coughs.

"Well?" Martha crossed her arms, giving them a pointed look. "Who is in charge here?"

"That'll be me." A middle aged man with torn prison robes and scraggily hair stepped forward. "I'm the Godfather."

Martha rolled her eyes while Ludo huddled into his seat, pulling his legs up and wrapping his hands around his knees.

"So are you the leader of the 'Mafia'?"

The man in the ripped robes laughed. "Mafia? Us? No! We're just a group of concerned citizens…mainly Catholic…who have…rallied! Yes! Together! to watch the Triwizard Tournament."

"LIES!" Marty screamed from the corner as he was being dragged away. "THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE!"

The Godfather walked over and plucked the microphone out of Martha's hand. "I'd just like to make an announcement, YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME, COPPERS!"

"HEEELLLP! I'M BEING REPRESSED! I'M BEING REPRESSED!" The intern disappeared in the happy embrace of the caring 300 pound Security Guard.

"And that—" Martha turned back to the audience, taking the microphone back as the Godfather and his gang took the fichus plant hostage and fled the scene. "—is a message we should all take to heart: The Truth Shall Make You Fret."

"—FREE!"

* * *

Harry decided that the only logical choice was for him to swim _downwards_. So that's where he found himself, on the bottom of the lake, the only problem was that there was only weeds, half buried skeletons and six horcruxes encased in gold there.

But he continued on his brave journey, eventually spying a faint pulsing light off in the distance.

_**Come seek us where our voices sound…**_

Harry could here the familiar song coming from the direction of the light.

**_We've taken what you'll sorely miss…_**

Harry pondered this as he swam closer, what in the world would he miss?

_**But past an hour—the prospect's black,**_

**_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back…_**

It's not like he had anything important anymore. Dramatic plotlines had taken care of that. No parents, no heath insurance, no college fund, no dignity…

And it wasn't as though he had a lot of friends…

Hmmm…

Friends…

Friends?

Friends…equal…important?

FRIENDS IMPORTANT!

HIS FRIENDS WERE WHAT WAS TAKEN! THEY WERE WHAT WAS IMPORTANT! THEY WERE HERE—

"That took you long enough, dip-wad."

Harry stopped, and peered up at the massive naked chest of a mermaid.

"I'm a merman, loser."

Oh, what a majestic creature, the mermaids, were. Full of grace, and beauty.

"I'm a fricking man, man."

Harry wondered if the gentle giants could understand him?

"I AM LOOKING," Harry mimed out a person searching in binoculars, "FOR MY FRIENDS." At this he hugged himself.

"I'm not stupid."

"DO YOU KNOW WHERE THEY ARE? HUH? DO YA, DO YA GIRL? DO YA?"

"I'M A MERMAN!"

Harry could see that the amazing creature's brain was overheating from the complicity of his request, as the mermaid took up his sword, and raised it over his head in a threatening manner.

"It's okay, my friend." Harry patted him on the shoulder. "You just stay here, I'll find them myself."

So Harry advanced into the Mermaid City. The sight of seeing the little native people scurry about their lives, completing little details, filled his heart with joy at the splendor of nature and her loving embrace…

Native #1: (I say we shank him.)

Native #2: (Aye, let the loser be lolled, like, into a false sense of security.)

Native #3: (I'll 'mermaid' him.)

Native #1: (…then we shank him?)

Native #2: (Yes! Okay! We'll shank him!)

Harry, his mind sitting on such a happy plane, was jolted into an epileptic shock as he finally laid eyes on the floating dead-body balloons.

And thus, Gilly!Harry fainted to the bottom of the Mermaid City's streets.

* * *

Well, the Task had to end in some way, and we couldn't have Harry dying until _at least_ the seventh book, so by Dumbledore's apparent lack of trying, Ron Weasley's sleeping charm completely wore off, earlier than schedule.

After bucking at his bindings like a lassoed mongoose for a while, Ron eventually calmed down and used his strange Weasley talents by disconnecting every joint from his body and wiggling out of the ropes.

This actually took a lot of time, but Ron was used to Fred and George's 'Chinese Water Torture' so really it was nothing. 2,458th time was the charm, after all.

In that time span, though, only one other Champion had showed up: Cedric. And the pretty boy had taken one look at the situation, came up with the obvious, smart, and game-wining answer, and had grabbed Cho and swam as fast as he could.

Ron then, when he finally freed himself, fought off a dozen mermen who wanted to shank him, grabbed onto Hermione and Harry's lifeless arms and kicked towards the surface.

* * *

Harry's fishy-ness ran out about five feet from the surface (the smell would remain for another two weeks, but that was another story), and the feeling of fresh air snapped him into consciousness.

"And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the final contestant!" Martha echoed from atop her position on one of the many strange and mysterious raft-thingies that had unsuspectingly appeared over night.

Professor Moody sighed loudly with relief the convulsed, as the Judges congregated near the edge of the pier. "Pooter hasn't ruined my master's plan then…"

Barty Crouch Sr. looked over sharply at the Professor, his little Hitler-mustache quivering, his eyes narrowing.

Moody jumped back in surprise, looked about him, then motioned to himself in a confused fashion.

Barty nodded slowly.

The suspiciousness confirmed, Moody twitched quite violently and screamed. "I'M NOT YOUR SON!" then ran from the scene.

Harry's red cape (although not mentioned at all in the second task) floated out in the water, giving him a wetted-hero look.

Hermione had awoken at this point, and although not really a good swimmer, her afro, upon touching the air, immediately sprang back into shape and gave her that buoyancy need to keep her afloat. She spied Harry in his cape-ness glory.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, slowly swimming towards him. "I knew that you at least had the brain power to light a dim bulb; and even if you randomly turn into cabbage sometimes, I still believed in you! _AND_ you pulled through! Unbelievable!"

People may have then noticed Ron's growing frown, expect for the fact that his mold was beginning to contaminate the swimming water and little dead fish were popping up to the surface all around him; so the students were quickly asked to evacuate the lake.

"EVERY THING I TOUCH DIES!"

Meanwhile, Harry was standing on one of the rafts awaiting his judgment...

"_He totally returned out of the time-frame, his points should be cut."_

"_Yes, well, it's not like any of the other school's Champion's even completed the task."_

"_Ze question ve haff ta ask ouverselves is iff ve vant un Hufflillepuff as un winner?"_

"_Ok…uh…moral fiber?"_

"_Yeah, moral fiber. That should cover it!" _

"_But he was **still** last…"_

"_What? It was the best we can come up with, ok? It sounds better than saying: 'we just like him better'."_

"_Right-o, I'll bet this will work. Break!"_

"_This isn't a huddle Ludo, go back to your Quidditch balls."_

"_Yeah, the sexual innuendo he said."_

Ron had finally pulled himself up and out of the water, after being shunned by everyone on land, and was now standing beside Harry and Hermione. Hermione, whom was still praising Harry on his accomplishments of the task.

"…I mean, I know you're dull and all, but, _wow_…"

"Er-my-ninny?" Krum appeared behind them, looking sheepishly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "It's Hermione, you great big Germanic Duck—"

"—ROBERT!!!!"

"—and what do you want. _Viktor_? As you can see I am quite busy."

"I aam surry I could not rescue oo' myself."

"Yes, well." Hermione glared at him while scratching her head, her hair having suddenly been filled with dozens of water-beetles.

"Oo' see, I may bee big and manly, Boot I aam stivll foreign."

Hermione's glare quickly melted into a fluffy squint of delight. "Oh, Viktor…but just to make sure you don't do it again…"

Hermione promptly leaped onto the back of the huge Durmstrang student, and seized him about the neck. She then swiftly shoved a bottle filled with pink liquid down his throat.

Krum, flapping his arms, tried desperately to throw Hermione off him.

"STOP STRUGGLING!" Hermione commanded, plugging his nose with her fingers. "It'll just make it worse for you!"

And so, Krum slowly went cross eyed and fell over.

Hermione delicately distracted herself from his crumpled body and walked back over to Harry.

…

"He invited me to his house this summer, you know."

Harry paused, looking down at the foreign kid, his form twisted on the ground like a dead kitten. "Oh, did he?"

"_He will_."

Martha's voice broke over the audience. "The Judges have decided…yes…yes…AND IT'S MORAL FIBER! You heard it right, **Outstanding** Moral Fiber! Well done, Hogwarts! Even that's a new line of bullshit I wouldn't tread! _NO! BACK IN YOUR CAGE, MARTY!_ And this, ladies and gentlemen, wraps up the Official Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, this is Martha Glennings, signing off."

"Oh, Arry." Fleur fluttered, turning next to him. "The vay you stayed behind und made sure zat everyone zat vas coming, came; then rescuing the rest, zat vas vary brave und noble off 'ou."

Harry nodded, his mouth hanging open. "Yeah, yeah I stayed behind and everything, just like you said. And…it was brave of me, wasn't it?"

Ron glowered, his wet running mold sizzling in righteous anger.

Fleur leaned down and gave Harry kiss, then turned towards Ron, stopped mid-way and pulled up.

"Hey, I did all the wor—" Ron began to protest.

Harry looked over at his best friends. "Oh, don't bother him. He didn't help at all, like carrying a load of potatoes, that one. And he's still upset about Robert."

Ron sniffed, tears welling in his eyes. "You just had to bring him into this, didn't you!"

Fleur smiled absentmindedly, then paused, and looked around confused. "Vere is my sister?"

* * *

It just so happens, that the next day happened to be Valentine's Day, and Hogwarts was overnight, decorated with frilly lace, floating hearts, and lots of pink.

Luckily, it wasn't as bad as Harry's second year when everyone had to wear pink robes.

But unluckily, people seemed very festive for the visiting schools.

Harry sat that morning, arms crossed, at the Gryffindor Table glaring over at Cedric and Cho. Ron copied him, staring at Fleur, then switching to Krum.

"It's those foreign kids, I'm telling you," Harry glared, watching people exchange red and white cards. "They're making everything…_foreign_…"

Ron nodded curtly in approval. Hermione fluttered past their table with Krum. "Oh _Vikor_…"

"MURK! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?"

Harry sighed, then turned back to his eggs. They were positioned in a way to look like a smiling face. Harry instantly distrusted them and began butchering them with his knife. "Cheer up Ron, at least you have someone."

"Oh, yeah?" Ron squinted suspiciously at the pancakes that had been shaped into hearts. "Like who?"

Harry sniffled. "Pigwidgeon." He turned to hide his face, his back shaking. "WHY? HEDWIG! WHY?"

Ron shrugged as his small hyper owl appeared on his shoulder. "He's no Robert."

The small owl screeched and launched itself at Ron's head.

"AHHHHH!"

* * *

Ron and Harry arrived late for their first class of the day, DADA. They made it to their seats just before Professor Moody walked in.

Harry viciously tried whipping the blood off his robes. "Who knew Dumbledore would take floating hearts so literally, huh?'

Ron frowned, a great accomplishment on his part, his bandaged ears wiggling. "Stop complaining, I have a left artery jammed up my nose."

One of the hovering hearts had followed Harry and Ron into the classroom.

"Who didn't shut the door?"

"STAY AWAY!"

"EKKK!"

"STUDENTS—!" Moody entered the classroom, slamming the door open. His cane and hands where covered in blood and there was some claw-marks on his face. "Sorry I'm late, I had some unfinished business to take care of." Moody stalked up to the front of the classroom; on the back of his shirt someone had frantically scrawled a message in blood:

**HELP! MOODY IS AN IMPOSTER! HE'S TAKING POLYJUICE POTION! HE'S** **REALLY MY SON, BARTY CROUCH JR. SENT HELP! HE'S A DEATHEATER!**

Dean raised his hand. "Uh, Professor? What's on the back of your shirt?"

Moody peered over his shoulder. "Oh. This? It's…a love letter."

"But it's written in blood."

"Are you judging our relationship, Thomas?"

"—no."

"That's RIGHT."

Classroom stilled as Moody finished arranging his things.

"Today, we are going to talk about fears. One of my fears was becoming my father—WHAT ABOUT YOU POTTER?"

"Uh…"

"You do look just like your father, but you have your mother's eyes you know."

"Yeah, thanks for that—"

"I, on the other hand, have my father's eyes, see?" Moody pulled out a jar from the inside of his pocket and shook it.

…

"Uh…their grapes!" Moody cackled uncontrollability, then hurriedly tossed the container over his desk. "So…any ways, Ms. Granger? What's you're greatest fear?"

"Living in eternal solitude surrounded only by my Nobel prizes for support."

The door of the classroom busted open once again, and Krum twirled into the room and presented Hermione with some violets.

Hermione growled, and withdrew a water bottle and began squirting the Champion with it. "I. SAID. _ROSES_."

The Professor convulsed briefly, and turned to the next person. "How about you, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron, his head having been slammed on the desk, slowly raised his face, and sneered. "What do you know about fear? HUH? What do you know! Have you ever experienced a moment of happiness? HUH? ROBERT! MURK! MINERVA! WHHHHHHHHY?" Pigwidgeon swooped in from the window and began sadistically attacking Ron once more.

Professor moved on to another student as Ron's strangled cries gradually grew dimmer.

"Fear? Well…" Harry looked around hastily. "YOU CAN'T TAKE MY MOPS AWAY! YOU CAN'T!"

Moody frowned. "And you, Mr. Finnigian?"

Seamus shook, quaking in his seat, his hands twitching together, then screamed and bolted for the door. "THEY'RE AFTER ME LUCKY CHARMS!"

* * *

The Gryffindor trio trooped to Transfiguration next, discussing the day's events.

"…I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "But I still think hog tying Seamus and throwing marshmallows at him wasn't in his best interest…"

Ron laughed, spraying Hermione with second-hand milk. "What do you know, Hermione?" He continued to eat his bowl of cereal. Everyone in DADA had got some; it appeared that Seamus kept a whole horde of that stuff in his book bag.

"Why are you still eating that stuff, Ronald?"

Ron gave her a shifty eyed-look. "They're magically delicious."

Harry collapsed onto the ground and started seizing. Hermione sighed.

"POTTER SENSES! TINGLING!"

"What do you want, Harry?"

Harry stopped shaking and sat up, scowling. "Do you ever think that I'm not doing this for attention? That Voldemort might actually be plotting something?"

Hermione blinked. "No."

A loud, flashing red alarm suddenly went off, and the sound of mad tricycling could be heard.

Dumbledore swerved to a halt in front of the fourth years; he then threw some water on them and waited urgently for a reaction.

Harry wiped the water out of his eyes, and Hermione's hair consumed the liquid in a ball of frizzy hair-ness. Ron fell to the ground screaming.

Dumbledore frowned, twirled his propeller hat, then smiled again. He reached to his belt and unclipped a walkie-talkie. "False Harry Alarm, no evil present. I repeat, no evil present. Oh, and we need some more holy water." The Headmaster then turned his attention back to the students, he pointed at them. "Don't do drugs." Then cycled away.

Hermione turned to look at Harry and he shrugged. Then together, they bent down and dragged the shrieking and spasming Ron into class.

"Okay, settle down, students." Professor McGonagall waved her hands for the class to quite.

Ron stopped shaking, and sat up, still slightly steaming, he sighed heavily, and smiled blankly, gazing up at the teacher.

"Oh, Harry." Ron gushed. "Look at her; what an enchanting temptress she is."

Harry scooted closer to Hermione.

"See? Watch as she moves, like a graceful deer, a deer running away from Hunter meant to rip up her carcass."

Hermione frowned. "Ron, that was a lovely simile."

"Harry, tell me the truth." Ron grabbed two fist-fulls of Harry shirt, pulling him closer. "Do you think Minerva will like this bottle of cream I've gotten her?"

Harry stared at the 'Happy Mouse' dancing on the glass jug of cream. "Well Ron, I think the truth will make you fret."

"Weasley!" McGonagall snapped.

"Yes, my Minerva?" Ron blinked rapidly.

The professor frowned. "If you call me that again, I'll be forced to punish you."

Ron giggled. "Oh, _Minerva_."

Hermione backhanded him with her copy of: Romantic Tensions, then Pigwidgeon appeared and started pulling out his hair.

* * *

Although there was no little cupids running around delivering letters, Harry was still cautious; so that's why when Hermione informed him that she was taking Ron to the Hospital Wing and he would have to walk to Potions alone, he became a little worried.

In fact, he was about halfway down a desert back hallway when he heard some heavy breathing behind him.

"I said _NO_ Millicent!"

He spun around only to come face to face with, not a large Slytherin…girl? But instead, Colin Creevy.

Harry screamed.

"Harry, it's okay! It's only me, Colin!"

Harry screamed some more.

"Yeah, well…" Colin blushed and dragged his right big toe in little circles. "I just wanted to give you this." He pushed a card into Harry's hands:

DeAr LovElY HArrY,

I…LikE YOU a loT. BEE mY ValenTInE?

-ColiN

Harry began to open his mouth to scream once more, when all of a sudden a large angry mob appeared.

"YOU LIED COLIN!" Someone screamed. A couple people were carrying torches and pitchforks.

"PUNISH HIM!"

"YEAH!"

"I LOVE YOU HARRY!"

"NO, I LOVE YOU MORE!"

"Colin!" Ginny Weasley appeared to be the head of the mob. "We all agreed that the Fan Club would send one collective letter. You have defied our ways. Now you must be punished."

"Our love is pure!" Colin screamed red-faced back at the crowd. "You can't stop me!"

"ASK HARRY!" someone in the back yelled.

"YEAH, ASK HARRY!"

"HARRY DOESN'T LIKE _YOU_!"

"**I DON'T LIKE ANY OF YOU!" **

The crowd gasped in shock, then became silent. A cricket chirped a couple times, until that too was stepped on and silenced.

Ginny was the first to recover, she smiled in satisfaction. "Ha! That's right!" She turned to look at the rest of the crowd. "Harry only likes me! I'm his number one fan!"

"No! Not even you! You're Ron's little sister! You freaky stalking little girl!"

Ginny's eyes widened, then filled with tears. Then screaming deafeningly, she flung a Bat-Bogey Hex at his face.

"I hate you Harry Potter!" she sobbed. "It's like a veil has been lifted from my eyes, you're nothing but a STUPID, UGLY, DISGUSTING, STUPID LOSER! AND I HATE YOU!" With that she ran away.

There was silence in the hallway once again for a couple seconds. Then:

"Well, will you be _my_ Valentine?"

"BE MINE!"

"BE MINE!"

"MINE!"

"MINE!"

"WE LOVE YOU HARRY!"

* * *

Later that day at lunch, Harry met up with Hermione and Ron.

"Whoa, man. YOUR FACE!" Ron pointed.

Harry glared. "You're one to talk."

"What?'

"Nothing." Hermione sighed.

"No." Harry interrupted, standing up. "I've had a bad day, and I'm going to pass it on." He turned to look at Ron. "Ron, your face is moldy and you look like a sloth with green hair."

Ron blinked, looked up at the sky, turned and looked about him, then stared at his hand. He looked back up at Harry. "Huh?"

Harry decided to lay his head down on the table.

"Hey, look." Hermione pointed. "The post!"

The birds delivered their mail as Ron sniffed loudly. "Robert always liked reading the business section." Pigwidgeon sudden curved and dive bombed the Weasley boy.

"AARRRGGHH! NOT THE EYES!"

Hermione gasped.

Ron perked up. "You do care!"

"No, not that," she waved him off. "Look! Bartemus Crouch Sr. has gone missing! He's one of the Triwizard Judges."

Up at the Head Table, Professor Moody randomly began laughing loudly.

Harry mumbled.

Ron looked concerned.

"Don't bother him." Hermione told Ron. "He's just got the V-day blues."

* * *

About a week or two passed until something really important happened. The Triwizard Champions were called down to the Quidditch Pitch for instruction about their next Task.

Cedric started crying. "What have they done to the Quidditch Pitch?"

Harry was too, shaking in anger. "WHAT BLASPHEMY IS THIS?"

Ludo Bagman was standing near the Pitch, and all in it were multiples of growing hedges, twisting and crisscrossing in every direction.

"It's a maze!" Ludo exclaimed. "And by the next month those hedges should be about twenty or more feet taller. That's the Third Task, the Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze, and the first person to touch it receives full marks."

Cedric was looking at the hedges critically. "These will be…kinda like trees, yeah?"

Ludo thought about this. "I suppose…"

Cedric smiled, content. "Piece of cake."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" Fleur spoke up.

"Oh, there will be obstacles, you can bet on that." He paused. "Anyone? Anyone wanna bet on it? ANYONE!"

The four Champions stared at him silently.

"Well then, if there aren't anymore questions, lets get back inside…a little chilly for you kids…I bet?" he paused again, looking hopeful. "Oh fine, never mind."

The group began walking up to the castle when Bagman leaned over to ask Harry something.

"So, Harry…need any help?"

Harry squinted at him. "No."

"Well, I'm sure I could help you, you know…head start and…uh…random drug-testing, you know…"

Harry considered this for a second, then pictured Dumbledore riding his tricycle through his 'private' golf course. He blushed, golf wasn't the only thing happening there.

"Uh…no. No thanks."

"Well, Harry, if you need a man to bust knee-caps in the secret of the night, you know I'm your man."

Harry considered too, the phrase: 'secret of the night' and quickly shuffled away from him.

"'Arry?" Harry turned quickly to tell Ludo to STEP OFF, MAN. But saw it was Krum, this time, trying to talk to him.

"I 'vould like to aaask you sumthing, in private?"

Krum lead Harry to a secluded place behind Hagrid's Hut.

Harry twitched nervously. "Look Krum, I just want you to know, I already told Cedric I don't swing that way."

Krum looked puzzled for a second, then decided to ignore the statement. "Do you haff anything to doo wiff Hermy-own-ninny?" He winced as if expecting a water bottle.

"You mean Hermione?"

"Ah, yes…"

"No."

"So, you're no…haff not…"

"Nope." Harry smiled. "She's all yours."

Krum unexpectedly dropped to his knees. "Oh god, Please 'Arry, please…take her from me!"

He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "PLEASE!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Harry lifted his hands up. "This getting WAY too much like that time with Cedric and the bathroom."

There was a noise, Harry turned to look in the sound's direction, it was coming from the forest. Krum even got up and looked too.

"Vat was that?"

"I don't know…" Harry inched closer to the sound, walking past the tree-line, right inside the forest.

"Vhere are you going?" Krum hesitantly followed.

"Into the Forbidden Forest, I heard something."

From far away, a voice carried over the grounds. "_DER SPIRITS_!"

Then Harry saw something, it was the body of Barty Crouch, tried up to a tree.

Well, Harry assumed it was Mr. Crouch, but he also knew that originally Mr. Crouch's head was still attached and his body wasn't decaying. Oh, and his eyes were missing. In the bark of the tree, it seemed that Crouch had written his last words:

…_Must tell Dumbledore…we switched…awful thing…he's back…HE'S BACK … _

Krum started at the scene fearfully. "Vat is _this_?"

Harry set his jaw. "Something foreign is going on here." He looked over at Krum. "No offense."

* * *

**_Siriusly _**


	42. You Only Live Twice

IMPORTANT! CALLING ALL READERS OF THAT LOSER:

Hey readers: there's an issue now that we're near the end of the fourth book that we really want your opinion on. Since the fifth movie is going to come out in July, and we're within a few chapters of starting the fifth book, would you rather have us start the fifth book without seeing the movie, or wait until the fifth movie comes out? If we waited, we'd write a few chapters about Harry's summer and maybe a few more Edmund sequences to fill the time until the movie comes out. Or, if you'd rather have us just start the fifth book now, we can do that too, but we might miss some movie satire gold if we don't wait. We're not sure what to do, so if you could give your input that would be great. SO REVIEW! Yes…that is all.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you don't get the whole 'tomorrow never dies, you only live twice, etc.' part that comes later in the chapter, it's okay. Dumbledore and Moody are talking in titles of James Bond movies. All right, carry on.

That Loser

**Chapter 42: You Only Live Twice**

"Professor Dumbledore! Professor!" Harry ran headlong down the long corridor to Dumbledore's office, screaming at the top of his lungs. A few second years gave him an odd look as he passed, but with his recent display of outstanding moral fiber they were willing to make allowances.

"Harry! Harry! Sign my bottle of fiber supplements, Harry!"

"Yes, uh, right. Another time, maybe. Um…eat your green vegetables, and you'll stay as regular as me! Uh…FIBER!!!"

Harry finally skidded to a stop in front of the great stone eagle, knocking over a decorative potted fichus in the process. Harry summoned up the best dramatic, heroic presence he could muster and shouted the password. "Sherbet Lemon!"

The eagle statue was unimpressed.

Harry frowned. "Oh great, he changed the password again. Um…licorice wand? Fizzing Whizbee? Chocolate Frog?"

The eagle seemed to mock his efforts.

Harry frowned. "Oh yeah? Is that they way it's going to be? I thought you cared!"

The stone eagle stared at Harry with a gaze that could only be described as stony.

"Well fine!" Harry kicked the statue, leaving the eagle completely intact, but possibly fracturing a toe. "Sugar wand!" _Punt_ "Bertie Bots' Every Flavor Beans!" _Punt _"Cockroach Cluster!" _Punt_ "Swordfish!"

The eagle slowly spiraled upwards to reveal the staircase to Dumbledore's office. Harry sniffed. "Really? But everybody uses swordfish! Oh well, I'll be back for _you _later, my fine young feathered…my feathered young…oh, never mind. NO ONE MOCKS HARRY POTTER AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!"

Halfway up the staircase, Harry paused and burst into tears. After all, there is only some extend to which a person can lie to themselves.

Sniffling mightily, Harry reached Dumbledore's door, grabbed the doorknob, and tried to pull it open. It would not budge. Harry pulled harder. Why had his inanimate objects turned against him?

After a few minutes of struggling, Harry, looking down, suddenly realized that the door was marked PUSH. Feeling a bit stupid, he pushed the door open.

"Professor! Professor!" The room was empty. "Well I guess he's not here. Hmmm." Bored and easily distracted as ever, Harry wandered aimlessly around the empty office. He came to a particularly interesting-looking cabinet in a dark corner. White light spilled mysteriously from the keyhole.

Harry, once again completely ignoring his previous magical experience, decided that touching magical things he's never seen before was a _good _idea. He pulled the cabinet doors open to reveal a low basin. Harry leaned in closer to get a better look. Something seemed to ripple across the surface. The-Boy-Who-Was-Inclined-To-Poke-At-Things took out his wand and prodded the image. The picture grew to fill the whole basin.

"Wow, what a neat trick!" Harry leaned forward to get a better look. Unfortunately, his knobby knees could not support him, and Harry went toppling headfirst into the basin. "CURSE YOU FATHER FOR GIVING ME YOUR KNOBBY KNEES! And bad hair…" screamed Harry as he fell through space.

Landing with a thump, Harry massaged his bruised ego and looked around him. To his surprise, an 80s version of Dumbledore was sitting in the next chair. A younger Mad Eye Moody was sitting next to him.

"Wow, righteous threads, Dumbles!" said Harry.

Dumbledore seemed not to hear him.

"HELLO?!" Harry waved a hand frantically in front of Dumbledore's face, and then through his head entirely. "Whoa, he's like a ghost or something…wait…maybe I'm the ghost. I DON'T WANNA BE DEAD!"

There was a general scraping of chairs and shuffling into order as a younger version of Bartemus Crouch, sitting behind a large desk and wearing a rather unflattering gray judge's wig, pounded a gavel. "Order! Order! Erm…yes…hallo everyone. Thank you for coming. We've got a lovely show for you today…bring out the Death Eater!"

Harry gasped as Igor Karkaroff was lead into the room and placed in a spiked iron cage.

"Now," said Crouch, glaring fiercely, "you have been convicted as a known Death Eater. Now it's time to play…"

The crowd screamed. "Wheel…of…TORTURE!"

"Thaaat's right! Now then, Mr. Karkaroff, you just spin the wheel of torture and pick your method of highly persuasive questioning."

Karkaroff timidly spun the colorful wheel. It gradually clicked to a halt on a space bearing the legend **COMFY CHAIR **in cheerful pink lettering.

Crouch nodded approvingly. "A crowd favorite. Bring out…The Comfy Chair!"

Karkaroff cringed as a plush leather armchair was brought into the courtroom. "No, please! This isn't right! This is torture for the sake of entertainment, it is! It's like the Spanish Inquisition!"

Crouch chuckled. "Ah, but with much better ratings. After all, this is a time of war, and we need information. Now then, Mr. Karkaroff, sit in the chair."

Karkaroff, trembling, sunk into the plush velvety comfort of the armchair.

"THE CHINTZ RED EXTERIOR THAT EMBRACES YOUR EVERY CURVE AND MELTS YOUR CARES AWAY! IT'S TOO MUCH!"

The audience murmured.

Crouch pounded the gavel. "Order! I WILL have order! This is the noble court system, not a joke! Though speaking of jokes I've just heard a lovely one about a man with a wooden leg named Smith…Right, anyways…Igor Karkaroff, you have been charged with the offense of consorting with the known murder He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, how do you plead?"

"Guilty!" squeaked Karkaroff from somewhere inside the plush comfort of the armchair.

"Good. Now, any help you can give the Ministry in naming some of V…his other supporters will help your case. Your sentence as of now is life in Azkaban. Do you have anything to say?"

Karkaroff snorted. "I'm no stool pigeon!"

Crouch held up a sort of remote control. "The chair's got a built in massager…care for a soothing lower back massage?"

Karkaroff gurgled incoherently.

"Now who was in league with The Dark Lord Voldemort?"

Something clicked, and the chair started to vibrate.

"NOOOO!!! I'll talk, I'll talk! Well…er…Lord Voldemort! He was involved!"

A witch on the council gasped. "Write that down, write that down!"

Crouch sighed. "I think we already know that one, Pricilla."

Karkaroff took a deep breath. "There's…Antonin Dolohov—I saw him torture countless nonsupporters of the Dark Lord with a wet noodle!"

The audience gasped.

Moody mumbled to Dumbledore. "And Karkaroff probably helped."

Crouch sniffed loudly. "The fiend! However we have already apprehended Dolohov. Well, if there's nothing else, I suppose we'll just take you back to Azka…"

"Wait! I have more! There was…Rosier…there was Rosier!"

"Rosier's dead."

"McNab!"

"Dead."

"And he took a piece of me with 'im!" remarked Moody fiercely.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Really, which piece?"

"Er…I'd rather not say."

"Travers! Yes, Travers—he helped kill the McKinnons! Mulciber—he specialized in the Imperious Curse and making almond macaroons for the Dark Lord himself!"

Crouch leaned over to the court stenographer. "Make sure you get that macaroons bit. That's giving comfort to the enemy, that is!" Crouch cleared his throat and turned back to Karkaroff. "Anyone else?"

"Rookwood!"

"Dead."

"Died Hard With a Vengeance, that one!" spat Moody.

"Unless he lived to Die Another Day," countered Dumbledore.

"Tomorrow Never Dies," remarked Moody.

"Never Say Never Again!" yelled Dumbledore

"Calm down, Albus! Merlin! You Only Live Twice, you know."

"Now Karkaroff, is there anyone else you'd like to rat out…I mean turn in for the good of the people…and the network?"

A producer wearing a BBC baseball cap gave Crouch a thumbs up.

Karkaroff faltered. "Well…um…"

Crouch pushed another button on the control.

"AHH! It releases my shoulders' every tension! SNAPE! SEVERUS SNAPE!"

Harry gasped. "I knew it!"

Crouch waved his gavel nonchalantly, accidentally whacking a bailiff. " He has already been found innocent. He was a Death Eater, but joined our side and turned spy for us. Now, if there's no one else…"

Karkaroff suddenly grinned wickedly. "Bartemus Crouch…Junior!"

A young man with an unfortunate facial twitch jumped from the stands and made a break for the door.

Moody gasped. "The Amazing Lizard Boy? It can't be!"

The boy was stopped by wizards guarding the door.

Crouch looked stunned. "Barty? Is this true?"

Barty Junior's mouth twitched, his tongue flicking in and out like a lizard's. "Are you going to kill me father?"

Crouch looked stunned. "Uh…cut to commercial. Just cut!"

The memory went black, and Harry could feel himself being pulled back into Dumbledore's study.

Harry landed with a thump on the floor of the office. Dumbledore was standing over him expectantly.

Harry got up quickly. "I'm sorry Professor, but it was like…calling to me, and I just had to see what it was. It's an affliction!"

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Well, it's a good thing you're not a cat, eh Mister Potter?"

Harry frowned. "Huh?"

"I said, it's a good thing…you're not…a…well, curiosity kills the cat you know and… never mind. So Mister Potter, what did you see?"

Harry gulped. "I saw Karkaroff's trial, and Barty Crouch Junior. Was he really a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Oh yes. He was put into Azkaban, but lived only a year. Shortly afterward, Mrs. Crouch also died, from a broken heart. Mr. Crouch must have been very upset. It didn't at all look good to the people, he was in the running to be the next Minister of Magic, did you know? So Mister Potter, why are you here, exactly?"

Harry blinked. "Um…oh yeah. BARTEMUS CROUCH HAS BEEN MURDERED! WE FOUND HIM, KRUM AND ME, AND I CAME TO TELL YOU!"

Dumbledore wiped Harry's spittle from face. "Yes, very well. Show me where you found him."

* * *

Harry, dragging Dumbledore by the arm, stopped at the edge of the forest. "It was here! I left Krum guarding his lifeless corpse right here!"

Krum was lying unconscious on the ground, and the tree, rope, and the body of Bartemus Crouch appeared to be missing. All that was left was a forlorn stump and a gurgling Krum.

Harry stared, stunned. "They took the tree."

"Yes, bit of bad luck, that." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly.

"They took the tree?"

Dumbledore walked over to inspect the unconscious Krum. "So it would appear."

"THEY TOOK THE WHOLE FREAKING TREE?!"

Krum sat up, holding his head. "Urrgg."

Karkaroff and Madame Maxime came running.

"Vat ees thees, Dumbeleedore?" Madame Maxime bellowed. "Sabotage!"

"They took the tree," remarked Harry.

Karkaroff rushed over to Krum, ignoring Harry. "What happened Viktor? Did that nasty Potter boy attack you?"

Krum shook his head. "No, the corpse vas so disgusting I think the fumes got to me."

Harry stared at Karkaroff. "Comfy chair," he whispered.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

"Nothing, nothing."

Krum waddled over to Harry while the three headmasters bickered in the background.

"Please 'Arry, are oo _sure _there is nothing betveen oo and Er-Meen-Own-Ninny?"

"They took the tre…oh…positive. We're just friends."

"No tottering nevils?"

"Um…I don't think so."

"Whizzing ticklers?"

"Probably not."

"Snitching toppers, then?"

"Um…no?"

"Pulling wobblers?"

"Merlin, I hope not."

"Vell how about…"

"Look, I don't understand all your fancy foreign euphemisms, okay? There has been no funny business between me and Hermione!"

Krum looked defeated. "But then how vill I get rid of Erm-Own-Nin…Erm-Own-Ninny, vat are oo doink 'ere? 'Arry and I vere just talking aboot…"

Hermione glared at Krum. "What are you doing out here? Did I tell you that you could leave the library? DID I?!"

Hermione grabbed the back of Krum's robes and dragged him away. "Help me, 'Arry. Oo are my only hope! Nooooo!"

* * *

Harry stumbled up the stairs to Trelawney's class, still perplexed about Crouch's disappearance. How could a corpse…and a tree…disappear like that? What did Krum mean exactly by 'whizzing ticklers'? Why were those lucky charms so darn magically delicious? And what were those hushed voices he could now hear coming from the Potions' Supply Room? Harry put his ear closer to the door.

"I can feel it Severus, it's getting stronger!"

"I know, Igor."

"Listen to me! Have you felt it this strong since the Dark Lord was in power? Something's going on. I mean…" there was some rustling of cloth "look at it!"

"Yes, it's very nice."

"No it's bloody not very nice! It's a sign, Severus. He's come back, I tell you! He's come back!"

The door opened suddenly, causing Harry to fall into the supply room to the glares of Snape and Karkaroff.

"Um…just checking the…uh…doorknob for…uh…well…how was your Valentine's Day, Professor?"

Snape glared. "Goodbye, Igor. And roll your sleeve up, for Merlin's sake."

Karkaroff winked. "Oh riiiiiiiight. My sleeve. Eh? Eh?" He elbowed Harry, winking frantically. "Nudge nudge? Eh? Right? Nothing to see, here! Eh? Yeah? Right?"

Snape sighed. "Imbecile."

Karkaroff continued elbowing Harry. "Comfy chair," Harry whispered.

Karkaroff shrieked and, after a few more desperate winks, scampered off.

Harry was about to make a break for it when Snape grabbed his arm and drew him inside the closet. "Can I have a word with you, Mister Potter?"

"I'm actually quite busy now, sir, so if I could just…"

"I know what you've been up to, you know." Snape glared down his long nose at Harry. "Gillyweed, Boomslang Skin, Assorted Novelty Chocolates—I'm on to you, Potter. Don't deny it! I know you're up to something."

Harry frowned, "But…"

"Don't argue, Potter. You've been dipping into my personal supplies, or 'snitching glossies' as they say in on the streets."

"I'm lost here…is it Confuse Harry With Foreign Suggestive Sayings Day, or something?"

Snape sneered. "It's always about you, isn't it, Potter?" He pulled a small bottle of a clear potion from the top shelf. "Do you know what this is?"

"Uh…you do remember that I'm failing your class, right?"

"I'll give you a hint. Getting a dose of this is called 'spilling oils'.

"I TOLD YOU, HERMIONE AND I ARE JUST GOOD FRIENDS! WE HAVEN'T 'SNIFFED NUGGETS' OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT, I SWEAR!"

Snape blinked. "Although that was more than I ever wanted to know about you, Potter, I'm willing to learn a little more. This is Veritaserum; it will make you tell all of your deepest and darkest secrets to the world with just one drop. It's illegal, of course, but if I ever catch you stealing for my supplies again, my hand might just slip over your evening pumpkin juice. Do I make myself clear?"

"Slip over my…I don't understand…STOP THE WORLD, I WANT TO GET OFF!"

Snape glared. "Until we meet again, Potter!"

Harry blinked muzzily as Snape stalked away. "Probably. I think?"

* * *

Harry ran into Trelawney's room and slid onto the cushion next to Ron, breathing heavily.

"You okay, Harry?"

"I don't know. Hey, do you know what 'petting wiggles' means? Or is that not right?"

Ron frowned. "I don't know, why?"

"Krum asked me, and then Snape asked me, and I didn't know."

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. Probably a foreign thing."

"Class," said Trelaweny, "today we will be reading entrails to try to divine the winner of the Triwizard Tournament. Now I want everyone to try very hard, because I have fifty galleons riding on this with Bagman, so please don't let me down. Now you may begin."

Ron picked up a handful of the intestines that were quickly gathering flies on the table as he squinted at his textbook, Finding the Future in a Steaming Mass of Intestinal Goo: My Life Story by Professor Reginald Whittlesy MgC., and WAND prize winner.

"Well, this green wobbly bit indicates a surprising comeback by an underdog. And this rather…moist…um, stringy thing could indicate that the winner is from a northern country. And this pussy white gunk, well that's probably…Harry? Harry are you okay, mate?"

Harry was rolling around on the floor, clutching his scar, screaming. "THE GRAVEYARD! THE GRAVEYARD! HE HAS RETURNED! CEDRIC! NO ESCAPE! THE HAND, THE HAAAAAND!"

* * *

While Ron had been talking about gooey bits, Harry had felt a searing pain in his scar and the world around him slipping away. When he awoke to blackness, Harry assumed that he had once again fainted as he usually did in this type of situation. But as Harry started to become less disoriented, he could see a graveyard. One tombstone in particular seemed to stand out. DreamHarry reached out a hand and pushed away the overgrown fichus plants that shrouded the tombstone, he winced as he felt a thorn from the fichus plants pierce his finger. Once he had cleared the plants away, Harry could clearly read the name on the tombstone. **_TOM RIDDLE_**.

"Wormtail, is it done?" Harry could hear a rasping voice coming from across the yard. "Is he dead?"

"Yes master, it is done!"

"Did anyone see you?"

"No master, but the Potter boy and the one that looks like a duck saw the body before I had a chance to…no please, master, don't!"

Harry crept closer, keeping low behind a gravestone.

"Harry Pooter, ruining my plans again! I may look like a small bald chipmunk now, but at our next meeting, Pooter, I'll be…myself…again."

Harry could feel the vision slipping away from him.

The cold voice seemed so far away. "Soon Pooter, you will be mine! See, I even made this valentine for him. Do you think a box of chocolate will be too much, Wormtail? Flowers, maybe?"

"Oh, I don't know my Lor…"

Harry woke up on the Divination Room floor. Everyone was standing over him, looking concerned.

Ron gulped. "Uh, Harry? You okay? You were screaming about the third challenge, and a graveyard, and something about someone's hand. And you kept saying: The cup is the key!"

Harry held his head. The scar was still burning. "Um, I'm going to go to the Infirmary." Harry had to write Sirius about this! Could he really be seeing Voldemort's plans?

Trelawney looked excited. "What did you see, my boy? Is it Cedric? It's Cedric, isn't it? Should I go up my bet?"

* * *

At supper that night, Harry pushed his potatoes around his plate nervously. Tonight was the third challenge, and he didn't feel ready. He had written to Sirius about his scar, but hadn't gotten a reply yet.

"Harry, really, you need to eat something." Hermione frowned at Harry quizzically. "Are you going anorexic on me, Potter?"

Harry sighed. "No, I'm just worried about the challenge. What if I don't win?"

Ron rolled his eyes, gravy leaking out of his mouth. "Oh, come on Harry. You could come out of that maze last and in forty-three identical pieces and they'll give the trophy to you because of…oh, I don't know…uncommon sentimental digestion, or something."

Harry frowned. "I still don't know. Oh Hermione, how are you doing with the whole Rita Skeeter thing?"

Hermione sighed. "I haven't really come up with much of anything yet. I've considered that she has spies in Hogwarts, you know. You could be a spy, Harry. Or you, Ron." Hermione suddenly eyed the room full of chattering students shiftily. "In fact, it could be anyone in this room."

Ron suddenly smiled. "Oh look, Hermione! Look at this cute little bug! It's got a little quill and a little notepad!"

Hermione put her head in her hands. "Don't bother me now Ron, I'm on a roll!"

Ron shrugged. "Whatever. Hey Harry, can you do the Jitterbug?"

Harry mashed his green beans. "I'm just kind of bugging out right now about the challenge."

Ron looked at the ceiling dreamily. "I've always wanted a VW Beetle."

Harry nodded. "Yup, The Beetles were the best band of all time."

Hermione squinted. "Thinking…thinking…"

"You know what's bugging me, Ron?"

"What's that, Harry?"

"There've been a lot of beetles around Hogwarts lately."

"You bet your bug there have been!"

Hermione frowned. "Nearly there. It's becoming clearer to me now."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever, Hermione. Hope your research in magical methods of bugging turns out all right. I've got to go meet the other champions."

A lightbulb hovering above Hermione's head suddenly lit up. "Wait…could it be…but the laws? Yes…registered…on the walls…yes, that's it! Harry, you're a genius!"

Harry snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

* * *

It was the night of the third challenge, and everyone had prechallenge jitters. Fleur kept looking at the hedges and shuddering. "B…but I'm afraid of shrubbery." Cedric did a few stretches, his Tarzan outfit fluttering in the slight night breeze. Krum looked a little odd, as if he wasn't completely there. Harry wondered if he was thinking about getting Harry to admit to 'wiggling shingles' with Hermione, or something. Harry looked into the crowd. Ron and Hermione were sitting with the rest of the Gryffindors, waving a POTTER IS A'MAZE'ING banner. Ron gave him a thumbs up, and Hermione was yelling something at him.

"Don't be an idiot, Harry. Remember to use your wand this time!"

"Thanks for the support, Hermione," he yelled back.

Dumbledore motioned for the champions to huddle up. "Now, I know you're all very excited about the challenge, but I need to give you fair warning. This challenge is more…well…challenging than all the others. The Shrubbery of Doom is no laughing matter—"

Harry giggled.

"—Stop laughing!" Dumbledore leaned in closer. "It will EAT you. People…change...in the maze. Oh yes, try to find the cup, but make sure that you do not loose yourselves along the way. That's all team. Okay, BREAK!"

Harry was a bit bewildered. "Wow, that was the worst pep talk I've ever heard, and I've had Wood as a Quidditch captain, so that's saying something."

Cedric nodded. "Yup. Well, good luck, Potter."

Filch fired the cannon, and Harry took a deep breath and dove into the maze.

**

* * *

**

The sheer disorienting power of the maze was, well, disorienting. Wall after wall of dark leaves rose up on either side of Harry. Harry took out his wand and used a new Four Points spell he had recently copied from Hermione's Charms homework.

"Point me!" He whispered. The wand swung like the needle of a compass, pointing slightly northeast. Harry followed the maze, trying to take as direct a path as possible to the cup.

The maze was eerily quiet, except for the sudden rustling of leaves. Harry hadn't yet seen anyone else or any obstacles. It was getting a little unnerving.

Movement on his left suddenly caught Harry's eye. It was Fleur, running madly towards him. "SHRUBBERY! SHRUBBERY EVERYWHERE!" She ran headlong into Harry, clutching at his robes feverishly.

Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Um…hello Fleur. My friend Ronald was wondering if you wanted to…um…well I think it was 'jiggle fleeces', but I'm not exactly sure…"

Fleur sobbed, clinging to Harry. "They HEAR you, they move when you move. I know I…I…I SAW IT GET…GET…and the shadow of the shrubbery behind you. I TELL YOU I SAW IT MOVE!"

Harry patted Fleur's shoulder sympathetically. "I know, I know. I used to feel the same way about the milkman. But one day I talked to him, and it turned out that his name was Eugene, and he had a fascinating mop collection he would show me if I would just get into his car with him…"

Fleur suddenly tensed. "Oh no. THE SHRUBBERY HAS RETURNED!"

Harry grimaced. "Nah, I saw that one at the dollar theater. Horrible acting by the actor playing the main character, Baniel Badcliffe. I mean, honestly, you'd think they just chose him because he looked like the character Barry Blotter, or something."

Fleur's eyes rolled into her head. "THE SHRUBBERY…BEWARE!" She took off running in the opposite direction.

"Okay…bye Fleur." Harry continued, taking a path to the left, which was shrouded in a mysterious gold mist. "Hmmm…it's probably an enchantment. Oh well." With a jump and a yell, Harry flew through the mist to the other side.

Quite suddenly and amazingly…nothing happened.

"Well…that was anticlimactic." The shrubbery behind Harry suddenly started to shift. Harry, not wanting to end up like Fleur, ran blindly through the wall of shrubbery into the next row.

"Champion," said a very deep, toothy sort of voice behind Harry, "answer my riddle correctly and I will let you pass. Answer incorrectly and I will attack. Say nothing and I will let you go back."

Harry turned around slowly to see a strange creature with the body of a lion and the head of a woman. "Um…okay?"

The sphinx, which Harry would have realized was the name of the creature if he paid more attention in DADA, smiled mysteriously. "Here is my riddle:

_First think of the person who lives in disguise_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of the middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word._

_Now string them together, and answer me this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

Harry stared blankly. "Uh…huh?"

The sphinx waited expectantly.

"Well, the first part. The person who lives in disguise…that'd be a secret agent or a spy or something. The middle part…the last thing to mend…um. What? And the last part…the sound when you're looking for a hard word…well, that'd be…er…er…um…er…man! I can't think of any! Wait…man! So, put it together. Secret Agent Man! I would be unwilling to kiss a Secret Agent Man because he's a man, and as I've told various foreign people recently, I don't swing that way!" Harry then begun to sing the Johnny Rivers classic.

"**There's a man who leads a life of danger**

**To everyone he meets he stays a stranger…**

**Secret agent man, secret agent man.**

**They've given you a number, **

**And taken away your name."**

The Sphinx frowned. "Is that your final answer?"

Harry stopped singing and dancing. "No, of course not! My final answer is 'spider' of course!"

The Sphinx glared at Harry. "Yes…but how did you…?"

"Got to be going!" said Harry cheerfully, skipping down the path. Harry was feeling great about himself when his happy bubble was suddenly popped by the sound of raised voices in the distance.

Fleur's screams sounded from the next row. "THE SHRUBBERY! THE SHRUBBER—"

"Krum, what are you doing?! Viktor!" Cedric gasped.

Harry ran directly at the wall of shrubbery and forced his way through. "Cedric!"

Krum was advancing towards Cedric, his wand drawn and smoking red.

Harry raised his wand.

"No Harry, don't! It's Krum!" Cedric tried to pry the wand out of Harry's hand.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Cedric, he's cursed."

"Why do you think that?"

"Cedric, he's got two heads! Something is wrong here!"

The cursed Krum turned its two heads towards Harry and started to cluck like a chicken.

Cedric blushed. "Well, I didn't want to judge. I assumed it was a foreign thing…"

Harry pointed his wand at Krum and yelled. "Impedimentia!" Krum was blown back by the force of the blast into the next row. "Now, where's Fleur?"

The shrubbery around Fleur's unconscious form had curled around her and was jerkily pulling her into the hedge.

Cedric blinked. "Uh…okay. That's creepy."

Harry sent up red sparks. "There, now they'll come to get Krum and Fleur."

Cedric frowned. "Did I just hear you singing not that long ago? Seasick Asian Man, or something?"

Harry blinked. "Uh…no."

Cedric and Harry stared at each other. "Well…uh…"

Harry blinked. "So…on the count of ten?"

Cedric grinned and nodded. "Sure. One…two…three…"

Both boys took off, elbowing each other out of the way and sprinting towards the growing light ahead.

Cedric tried to trip Harry, and Harry threw rocks at Cedric and slapped him with bits of shrubbery. Cedric called down his monkey friends to harass Harry, and Harry drove them away with his portable mop that he always kept in his back pocket. The two boys dodged Blasted Ended Skrewts, charms, walls of thorns, and a particularly annoying purple unicorn.

"Come to Candy Mountain Harrrriiiiiiieee. Candy Mountain!"

"Would you just go away?" Harry forced his way into the next row. "Oh…"

In front of him, Cedric was staring up at a giant spider towering above the boys' heads. Behind the spider, the Triwizard Cup gleamed blue and gold.

Cedric was desperately firing spells at the giant beast, but every one bounced off immediately, doing nothing but making the beast angrier. The spider had Cedric cornered when Harry, ever the stupid one, decided to do what came naturally to him when confronted with a giant enemy.

"AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!" Harry ran headlong towards the spider, totally forgetting about his wand.

When the impact happened, the spider look a bit confused for a second, then looked down to see what insect had hit it. A small nerdy boy was splattered on one of its legs. It scrapped off the nuisance and continued to stalk its prey, the Scandinavian Tarzan boy and his monkey minions.

"Ced! Cedric, we've got to attack it together! Aim for its soft white underbelly! Ready? One, two, THREE!"

Harry and Cedric fired their spells together, and through the all-conquering power of teamwork and friendship, the spider fell dead of an overdose of wholesome family values.

"Yeah!" Harry cheered. "Oh wait…OUCH! THE PAIN!" Harry collapsed onto the nearby hedges. "The spider got my leg, I'm done for! You go ahead Cedric, and take the cup. I can't run on this leg!"

Cedric frowned. "But I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. You saved my life twice in this maze already. You should win."

Harry shrugged. "Okay. See you, mate." Harry hobbled towards the cup.

"NO!" shouted Cedric, dragging him back. "That's not the way it works! You say that I should take it, then I say that you should take it, and then you say that I should take it, and then I do. It's the comedic rule of threes! You can't just take it after the second round. It's…it's…sacrilegious!"

"Fine, then you take it!"

In the background of this engaging philosophical debate, the shrubbery flung a screaming Fleur in wide arcs over the boys' heads, smashing occasionally into rocks, blast-ended skrewts, an enchanted duckman, and other unpleasant things.

"Well you told me about the egg."

"I had help. And you told me about the dragons first!"

"THE SHRUBBERY!!!"

"I had help too."

"Well…I stole Cho from you!"

"Well I'm going to steal her back after you're dea…I mean…your name was actually in the goblet. You should win."

"You stayed and saved all those people in the second challenge. You've got amazing moral fiber!"

"…outstanding moral fiber, actually. But, look, let's not argue. We'll both take the cup together. It'll be a double Hogwarts victory that way."

Cedric looked thoughtful. "But Madame Maxime and Karkaroff will say that we cheated."

Harry shrugged. "They always say that. I delivered a letter from Hagrid to Madame Maxime last week and she accused me of cheating. I wasn't cheating on her. I don't even like her, I swear!"

Cedric took a deep breath. "Okay, together. Ready?"

Inexplicably, Moody was sitting on the sidelines, chanting "TAKE IT. TAKE IT."

Harry hobbled over to the cup clearly labeled PORTKEY and stretched out his hand. "On three. One…two…THREE!"

**

* * *

**

In the next instant, there was a huge flash of blue light, and a strange pulling sensation at Harry's navel. Harry barely had time to wonder why someone was violating his navel when he and Cedric were suddenly rolling down a moist hill, clutching the cup. Mud splattered, Harry looked up.

"Where are we?"

The two boys had landed in a graveyard, shrouded in fog and spooky background music. A big sign was hung on the tall iron fence, reading in large letters: WELCOME TO LORD VOLDEMORT'S RE-BIRTHDAY PARTY. DROP OFF YOUR GIFT OVER ON THE TABLE AND PICK UP A STREAMER!

Harry twitched. "I've been here before."

Cedric spat out a clump of grass, oblivious to the background music. "What? Hey, the cup was a Portkey! They didn't tell us there would be a second part to this challenge. This is totally skip!"

An owl hooted mysteriously, and from somewhere in the darkness there was the crunching of evil boots on the frosted lawn.

Harry gulped as the footsteps got louder. "Cedric, there are four problems with what you just said. One: who says 'skip'? Honestly. Two: Why would we have a challenge in a graveyard? Three: This isn't just any old graveyard; it seems eerily familiar… Four: Um…how many did I say? Oh right, Four: In my sheer pants-wetting terror, I've completely forgotten four. And I think I've been here before. And to top it all off, I've completely forgotten to bring a present!"

Cedric patted Harry's shoulder sympathetically. "How embarrassing."

A high cold voice laughed from somewhere in the darkness. "Kill the spare."

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

In a flash of green light, Cedric dropped like a stone onto the lawn.

"Cedric!" Harry squealed. "Cedric, I think they're Death Eaters! And I've been here before! What should I do?"

"HARRY POOTER, AT LAST!"

Harry slapped Cedric's shoulder playfully, slipping into denial with the skill of a practiced connoisseur. "Great idea, Ced! Evil…um…person, you'd better stop right now, or I'll fling my mop at you!"

The cold voice snorted. "Take him."

Wormtail stepped from the darkness, grabbing Harry painfully and dragging him to a stone statue. The arms of the statue magically drew back, closing over Harry's neck in a sort of Classical Greek Headlock.

Harry, his scar erupting in pain, looked over at Cedric, who seemed to be steaming slightly and dripping in a particularly unhealthy way. "Oh, well done Cedric. Now look what you did!"

Cedric stared blankly in the way only a corpse truly can.

"This is all your fault, you know. Oh, what? You want to stare me down? Well fine! Two can play at that game!…or three…it's a nice party game, actually…Hey. Have I been here before?"

While Harry argued with a rotting corpse, Wormtail seemed to be speaking to a small bundle in his arms.

"But Master, won't he just sort of…you know…slip out?"

"What do you mean, Wormtail?"

"There's plenty of room for him to just duck under those arms. They aren't very tight."

The bundle sighed. "It'll be fine. Just look."

Locked in the embrace of the statue, Harry choked himself repeatedly by trying to force his neck through seven inches of solid stone. "I'VE…BEEN…HERE…BEFORE—"

The bundle chuckled. "Nothing to worry about. Ah, Wormtail. The day of my return has…well…returned! Again!"

Wormtail winked, catching on. "Ah, so you mean that You Only Live Twice? Eh? James Bond and all that?"

The bundle sighed. "Just get the cauldron, Wormtail."

"HAVE I BEEN HERE BEFORE?"

**

* * *

**

_**Oddly**_

**REMEMBER TO REVIEW AND VOICE YOUR OPINION ABOUT THE FIFTH BOOK!**


	43. Boogie Wonderland

Has anyone seen the US cover for Deathly Hallows? WOOHOO! Harry's kinda not loserish! Ching ching, baby.

WARNING!: Language

That Loser

**Chapter 43: Boogie Wonderland**

The scraping of a hundred and fifty pound cauldron pulled clumps of grass and dirt out of the ground while Harry screamed and moaned in the background.

Wormtail, after successfully moving the cauldron over a pile of thin, light sticks, instead of moving the sticks over to the dense cauldron; hobbled, hunched over, towards a small bundle wrapped in an almost white blanket.

Harry started to groan now, trying to pry the statue's stone grip apart.

A voice cooed from the inside of the blankets. "This _is_ a pacifier. You said it was a stress-releaser, you lied to me! LIES!"

Wormtail whimpered, partly because of the voice, and partly because his back was permanently disfigured now from dead-lifting the hundred-fifty pound cauldron. "You were being fussy, you know the pacifier is the only thing that settles you down—and look, I even got the green one—"

"—The Dark Lord is NEVER fussy!"

Silence.

"Green was a nice touch by the way."

Harry gave up trying to rip the cement into two and went back to moaning.

"Incidentally, are the fags ready?"

Wormtail blushed as he side-shuffled towards the big black cauldron. "They don't call them fags anymore, Master."

The bundle stirred. "What? Fags is a perfectly understandable word."

"It's politically incorrect, My Lord."

"Just light the fire, Wormtail, can you at least do that?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"And why are these robes so dirty? I demanded white! White for the symbolism of rebirth and power, and such!"

Wormtail blushed even more, now almost seeable in the inky darkness. "I mixed the whites with the Mudblood-gore pile." He paused, hearing the Dark Lord's displeasure even in the silence. He sighed, then bent further down towards the wooden sticks.

"Lighting the pile, Master."

Harry scrunched his eyes closed, threw his head back against the stone statue and screamed. "THE FAGS ARE BURNING! THE FAGS ARE BURNING!"

* * *

"_Sluuuuuuu…"_

Meanwhile, up in the stands Ron chewed on his fifteenth stick of deer jerky.

Hermione's right eye twitched as Ron slurped loudly on the offending stick of flesh and tore a chunk out of it, spraying the side of Hermione's face with droplets of saliva.

"_Sluuuuuuuu…"_ Ron's tongue licked the food object like a lollipop.

"_SLUUUUUUU…"_

"ENOUGH!" Hermione screeched. She seized the jerky from out of his hands and chucked it over the stands (incidentally smacking a fourth year Hufflepuff in the back of the head).

Ron gapped at her open-mouthed in shock.

"Hermione!" He accused her. "I need my full nutrition value for the growing needs my pubescent body requires!"

Hermione wiped the spit off her face.

"I could go into Diabetic Shock!"

Hermione glared at him, then turned her head towards the Maze. "You know, this is the stupidest quest of entertainment I've ever had to sit through."

Ron nodded smiling. "Yeah, I do like duck."

"I mean, really! You can't even see what's happening! It's just like the Second Task, why drag us out here to watch a wall of leaves for five hours?"

"I see your point, Hermione." Ron scratched at his flaking mold. "Green does make my butt look big."

"Wizards are idiots."

"Come on the pork!"

* * *

Harry discovered that his spit wasn't made of acid and couldn't possibly melt seven inches of stone and cement; but that didn't stop him from salivating all over himself and the arms of the stone angel.

Harry glared. "Yeah, great idea Cedric."

The dead body didn't say anything.

"My mistake for listening to a Hufflepuff."

The fire underneath the giant cauldron sizzled and crackled as the strange liquid inside began to simmer a dull blue, bubbles the size of robin's eggs bursting on the surface.

A huge snake randomly appeared next to Harry, and curled around his feet, hissing.

Harry blanched, scrunching his nose. "There's a snake here, I image this has something to do with Voldemort?"

Wormtail unceremoniously dumped the fidgeting mass of dirty white blankets into the cauldron with a _plunk!_ He squinted suspiciously at the Gryffindor boy, his silhouette outlined against the neon-bright white banner hung up between two small twisted trees:

**VOLDEMORT IS BACK!**

"What gave you that idea?"

Lightning flashed. Wormtail was drawn back to his task at the sound of high pitched screams gurgling from inside the giant black cauldron.

"Drowning…right. Not a good thing."

Wormtail coughed, reaching inside his robes and took out a heavily folded piece of paper, while Harry tried to head-butt his way to freedom.

The quivering bald man's hand began shaking and the piece of paper began rattling like a leaf blowing in the wind. "I-I-I-I-I j-jus want t-to th-thank the D-D-Da-Dark Lord f-for this o-o-o-opportun-oppertuna- _chance_ to p-prove to him that I AM a go-good…follower…uh…"

There came a loud pounding against the side of the cauldron and a fast stream of air bubbles escaping to the surface.

Wormtail laughed, snorted, then paused, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. "Right, I better get started then…uh…"

He looked down at his piece of paper once again.

"uh…_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_"

At Harry's feet, the surface cracked and splintered like a small earthquake; a skeleton tainted yellow and brown with age clawed it's was above ground, shaking and jerking, then rattling with an eerie high-pitched scream and dissolved into dust, floating over and into the bubbling cauldron.

Harry giggled.

"_Flesh of the servant willingly given, you will revive your master!"_

This time Wormtail reached into his robes and brought out a long silver butcher's knife, raised it up high, then stretched out his right hand for the down sweep—

"WHOA!" Harry's eyes widened, his sudden noise halting the Death Eater.

Wormtail looked over at him.

"You're gonna chop your hand off, aren't you!" Harry exclaimed, excited. "You're totally going to!"

Wormtail looked around, faintly confused. "Well…yeah."

"COOL."

He paused, suddenly looking unsure.

"Well come on then! You didn't drag me out here for nothing! Chop that appendage off!" Harry encouraged him.

Wormtail looked about him once more, but then got back to task and swung the knife up and down, severing his right hand from his arm. He dropped the hunk of flesh into the cauldron.

Harry whistled, then tried to clap. "I, myself, am faintly amazed at how fast you sawed through bone in such an easy, carefree, and painless manner."

Wormtail looked confused once more then hesitantly bowed, dripping blood down his robes from his gapping lesion.

Once he had stood up Wormtail consulted his tiny piece of paper once again.

"Ah, _Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!_"

Harry squinted at this one, ducked out from underneath the stone angel's grip to scratch his head, then ducked back in. "Look, I'm all for self-mutilation, but this might be a little far…"

Peter Pettigrew gave Harry a half-a-centimeter slice on his forearm and collected one tiny droplet of blood.

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!" Harry thrashed. "THE PAIN!" He threw in some body-convulsions for good measure. "IT HURTS SO MUCH, AAARRRGGGHHH! KILL ME NOW!"

Wormtail dropped the vial into the solution and watched the surface crystallize into a shining diamond-like surface, the liquid shimmering.

"BURNING SENSATION! AARRRGGGHHHH!"

A surge of thick white mist billowed up from out of the cauldron, wrapping everything around it in a deep fog. Then, a dark outline of a skinny, lanky man rose from inside, straightening and letting loose shrill laughter. A cough. Deep, haunting laughter.

Wormtail sauntered over towards the man, handed him a jet black robe, and retreated.

The man finally then stepped out of the cauldron and the mist cleared, fading upwards into the humid night.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

* * *

"WEEDEE WEEDEE WEEDEE!"

The nurse and Professor Sprout hoisted the unconscious Beauxbatons student up onto the white stretcher and started to cart her away.

"WEEDEE WEEDEE WEEDEE!"

"ENOUGH, ALBUS." McGonagall commanded, turning from her post of watching the injured Champions to reprimand the Headmaster. "We are not using an ambulance, and we certainly don't need the sound effects!"

"Wee…dee…?"

"No! Have you no shame? These students are severely hurt!"

Dumbledore bowed his head, averting his eyes. The little tiny propeller on his colorful hat slowly spun to a halt.

The Head of Gryffindor placed her hands on her hips. "Now I highly suggest you go back to your post with Moody and wait for the Triwizard Champion to appear."

McGonagall looked over at Professor Moody who had been laughing manically for the last three hours, and was now dancing a jig. She smiled. "He has the proper attitude."

"WEEDEE WEEDEE WEEDEE!"

Professor McGonagall quickly spun around to face the stands. "YOU CUT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW, RONALD WEASLEY!"

* * *

Harry stared in surprise.

"Darth Vader…? This that you?"

"Your lack of a nose is terrifying," Wormtail assured him.

"POOTER!" The alien-like thing hissed. "MOCK MY BEAUTY ALL YOU WANT, FOR I AM ALIVE!"

Harry squinted at the snake-faced, red-eyed man. "What, you were dead before?"

Voldemort paused from his maniacal laughter. "What? Uh…no…I was a…spirit…yes, BUT A SPIRIT!"

Harry grinned. "Like the Spirit of Christmas Past, yes?"

"POOTER!"

"What?" Harry called in outrage. "It's obvious that if you were dead you couldn't be the Spirit of Christmas yet to come!"

Voldemort stared at him.

"Yes…uh, I AM METAPHORICALLY ALIVE!"

Voldemort then proceeded to feel his face and head, running his long fingers over them again and again and again...

The festive banners blew silently in the wind.

Harry sighed.

There was an awkward pause as Voldemort felt himself up.

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort screeched, finally breaking the silence. "You made me bald! You're supposed to add toupee of neighbor, comically burrowed!"

Wormtail giggled, flinging his severed arm around in the air. "ZOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM..." Blood sprayed haphazardly, pelting the surrounding gravestones.

Voldemort eyed his servant as endorphins rushed his system.

"Perhaps you like that metal hand I promised you now, Wormtail?"

The little bald man snorted, then flipped his right hand in dismissal…or he tried to, because he had no right hand. "Thanks, but I have this wooden one, see?" And he did, indeed, hold up a carved wooden hand with a stick poking out the bottom of it; which he promptly jammed into his arm.

Even Voldemort's eyes widened. "What is WRONG with you?"

Harry decided to input a loud groan.

Voldemort flapped his long black robes up and down, like bird wings of DEATH.

"I do have to commend you on the robes, Wormtail, they're so…light…and…twirly…Why, I feel…like…I…may…DANCE!"

Spotlights slammed open, then panned in on the main man, bumped up a degree brighter, then panned out, leaving Voldemort, who struck a pose, his hips jutted out to one side and a hand help high into the air, his index finger wiggling…

"DANCE! Boogie wonderlaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!"

He flung his arms up over his head, then started flapping his robes in a bird-like manner.

"Dance! Boogie woooonderlaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!"

Harry quickly tried once again to head-butt his way to freedom. "HOW CAN YOU JUST STAND THERE, CEDRIC?"

"You say your prayers, through you don't care…  
You dance and shake the hurt—! "

Voldemort began to twirl as Ron randomly sprinted across the lawn.

"SPPPPPIIIIIIIDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSS!"

"DANCE! BOOGIE WONDERLAAAAAAAAAAAND!"

"STOP!" Harry screamed. "STOP! You came to kill me, do it now! UHHHHH, DISCO-MALFUNCTION!"

Voldemort calmed down, ripping the rainbow bandana off his forehead as the music cut out. "Yes, you're right Pooter, back to my master plan which I have yet to rant about—"

"Midnight creeps so slowly into hearts,  
Of men who need more than they get!  
Daylight deals a bad hand,  
To a wooooooman that has laid to many bets!"

"ENOUGH, WORMTAIL."

The backstabber slowly lowered the microphone.

Then he tentatively smiled. "Look! I have a wooden hand!"

"Yes. Yes you do."

Cedric still remained,…remained.

"Anyways Pooter, I will tell you my master plan but first, I need more of an audience." The Dark Lord looked over at his only present servant who was trying to do the Running Man.

"Wrong era, Wormtail, and get over here."

Once his command was obeyed, Voldemort grabbed onto his left arm and hastily pushed the sleeve all the way up to the man's shoulder, then twisted it around, revealing a livid black tattoo on the Death Eater's inner arm. Lord Voldemort pressed a single finger against the snake-and-skull mark, it burned a bright cherry red; smoke began to appear.

Wormtail smiled. "I have a wooden hand!"

* * *

Lucius Malfoy, who had arrived at Hogwarts to watch the Final Task, sat right beside the English Minister of Magic in the stands.

Suddenly his robes started rapidly flashing neon yellow, the Bat Signal appeared in the air, and his arm began to sing…

**_"A tatooed madman, I'm hell on wheels_**

**_Born a wicked child left alone in the fields…"_**

The Malfoy patriarch sighed, resting his head in his hands. "I told him to change that."

Fudge looked up good-naturedly. "Hmmm? Did you say something, Lucius?"

A couple stands back…

Hermione eyed Ron disheveled appearance, he had a skeleton hand sticking out of his left pocket and a note pinned to his right arm:

**HELP. VOLDEMORT HAS CAPTURED ME. CEDRIC IS BEING USELESS.**

**Sincerely,**

**HARRY, YOU KNOW, POTTER…HARRY POTTER, JAMES, HARRY JAMES POTTER. YOU KNOW, YOUR FRIEND. YOU KNOW? DON'T YOU? PLEASE?**

"Where have you been off to?"

Ron shrugged. "I like marbles?"

Lucius quickly got to his feet, waving the Minister off, "Leprechaun emergency, I'll take care of it."

Fudge trembled, his bright green bowler hat shaking. "You do what you have to to get rid of them!"

Seamus popped into view a seat back, clutching a box of brightly colored cereal. "Hey!"

* * *

Voldemort was running up and down the line of tombstones, billowing out his cape when the called Death Eaters began to arrive.

He had spastically told Harry the story behind this graveyard as he took breathers from flapping about. How his Muggle father had lived in the house off in the distance, married his witch mother, then abandoned them. So Voldemort went back and killed them and his parents of course.

"Of course," Harry had echoed sympathetically, nodding his head.

The Death Eaters were dressed in black cone-headed robes with white masks, and they also had a helpful nametag incase you couldn't exactly tell who the people were. They Apparated in, bowed down to their master, kissed the hem of his very flap-able robes, and stood back, forming a giant circle around Voldemort and Harry.

Harry frowned. It was rude that they had excluded Cedric.

"Welcome, Death Eaters!" Voldemort called out, backhanding Wormtail one last time as he tried to moonwalk. "It has been thirteen years since we last met, and I smell the stench of guilt in the air."

Wormtail's head wrinkled in confusion, he began counting on his fingers. "I don't remember adding nose of dog…"

One masked Death Eater, nametag titled: GOYLE, had his hand raised in the air, jumping up and down.

"Oh! Oh! Are you like a wallaby, milord? Can you smell fear?"

"_Crucio_."

After screaming on the ground for a couple minutes, Goyle sulkily got back into his position. "You could have just said no…"

"Anyways, I smell guilt! How is it that all of my able-bodied followers never came to aid their master, who they swore eternal loyalty?"

"CRAZY! Your club extends beyond the grave!?"

"_Crucio_."

Goyle got back into position. "Touché…"

"You all must have believed I would never rise again!" Voldemort continued. "Even though I was mightier than any wizard ever living!"

"Says the man beaten by the one-year-old," one Death Eater whispered to his neighbor.

"_Crucio_."

"I'm _sorry_." Goyle rolled his eyes as he army crawled back to his spot.

"I see we're going to have the same trouble we had last time, Goyle."

Harry tried some more thrashing against the stone angel from lack of action on his part.

"You chose instead, Albus Dumbledore? I confess I am disappointed." Voldemort sighed. "What the heck," he pointed his wand back at Goyle. "_Crucio_."

Afterwards, he moved around the circle, inspecting the present members.

"Ah, Lucius, still got that cane, I see? Don't cry, I'm not judging your masculinity…"

He continued on.

"Macnair, failed to kill a harmless fluffy, cute, harmless hippogriff? That's okay; you can make up for it…"

"Hello Crabbe, Nott, _Goyle_…"

He talked to four or five more about Muggle-torturing.

"Ah, and Oprah. Couldn't do this without you…The Pink Power Ranger? And I thought you had left our numbers."

Voldemort was coming to the end of his circle of followers. "And of course, Random Death Eater #52, hired to hum the Darth Vader theme song when ever I enter the room, keep up the good work, son."

The Dark Lord finally halted. "The Lestranges should be here, but they are in Azkaban, they will be honored above all others for not renouncing me—"

"—On the contrary, Master, they could have just been really stupid and easily captured." Goyle volunteered.

"_Crucio_."

Voldemort continued his monotone over the Death Eater's screams. "Three more Death Eaters are dead, one is too cowardly to return, he will of course, pay."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"Another I think has left me forever, and the last one remains my most faithful servant yet, he is at Hogwarts, and his actions have allowed my young friend here, to be among us."

"Don't be fooled Pooter!" Lord Voldemort cackled as he turned towards him. "You're not really my friend! In fact, you are my enemy! Be shocked, Pooter! Be shocked!"

He walked closer towards Harry, lazily crossing the circle. "They have called this boy my downfall," Voldemort hissed as Harry's scar burned in a fiery agony. "The night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him; his mother died in an attempt to save him, providing him with a protection I admit I had forgotten about—"

Goyle burst into laughter.

"_Crucio_. I could not touch the boy…"

Voldemort suddenly swooped closer to Harry, his face centimeters away from Harry's. Harry tensed, his eyes slowly going cross-eyed. He giggled. "You have no nose!"

"BUT I CAN TOUCH HIM NOW!" he declared in triumph, pressing his right index finger against Harry's scar.

Silence.

Harry looked about him quickly, Voldemort still had his hand pressed to his forehead.

"Ahhh…hhhaaa?" He tried.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Voldemort screamed back, exposing his nasty blackened teeth.

Harry coughed, thirteen years without a toothbrush. Ew.

Voldemort still wasn't leaving.

"Ahhhhhhhh?"

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Ahhhh!"

"_AHHHHHHHHHH!_"

"YEAH? Yeah? **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**"

"Silence Pooter!" Voldemort finally retracted his hand. "You scream like a girl."

The Dark Lord turned back to his followers. "Now I will commence and reveal my master plan, in monologue format!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Here we go Cedric, try not to fall asleep."

"I had miscalculated, I admit. I was torn from my body, less than a spirit, less than a ghost; but I was still alive. I, who have gone further along the path to immortality than anyone ever before, found that one of my many experiments must have worked. It was in fact the experiment of Horcruxes that—"

"Blah, blah, blah." Harry sighed. "Can we continue, please?"

"POOOOTER! But yes, I was powerless, I had no body and every spell that might have helped me required a wand…I forced myself to remain, hiding myself deep in the forest of a faraway place, surely my faithful Death Eaters would come looking for me, I thought."

Goyle burst once again into laughter.

"_Crucio_. But none came. I had only the power to possess bodies of others, but I dared not go where people and Aurors were sure to be, so I waited."

A couple of Death Eaters yawned, then quickly shook themselves awake as the Dark Lord paced by them.

"And then, four years ago I encountered a young, gullible wizard who crossed my path. He was perfect, for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school, and would follow my orders. But my plan failed to capture the Sorcerer's Stone, I was thwarted once again by Harry Pooter!"

"YOU LOST TO AN ELEVEN YEAR OLD!"

"_Crucio_. The servant died, and I fled his body, went back into waiting. By then I had given up hope that any of my Death Eaters would ever return to me. Then a year ago, Wormtail found me."

Voldemort grimaced. Harry continued to moan and groan, and generally cry in the background of his speech.

"Not the best of luck, but I would have to do with what I had. Then Wormtail ran into a Bertha Jorkins. This would surely be our end, I figured, but Wormtail surprised me; using the cunning of a five-year-old, he convinced her to take a walk with him. And I discovered that she had a goldmine of information…She told me of a faithful Death Eater and that the Triwizard Tournament was going to be hosted at Hogwarts. So putting two and two together I got four UNLIKE POOTER WHO THINKS IT'S FIVE and decided of course, to use both these useful bits of information to hatch this MASTER PLAN."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"With Wormtail's help I made a potion made of unicorn blood, snake venom from Nagini," he nodded to the snake that was now wrapped around Harry's head like a turban, "and oddly enough, bologna." He paused looking faintly confused. "THE MOST EVIL OF MEATS!"

"I thought perhaps spam—"

"QUIET Goyle, _Crucio_. In this body I was able to travel, and concoct this plan. The Sorcerer's Stone I knew would have quickly been destroyed by Dumbledore after my failed attempt, but I would settle for having my old body back, with my old power. For this I would need to make a very **dark** and _complex _potion; although not so dark and complex that Wormtail would screw it up. For this potion I would need three key ingredients, bone of the father, that's why we're here, flesh of the servant…uh…"

The Dark Lord grew quiet as he looked at Wormtail's wooden hand. "Uh, yes…and blood of a foe. Almost any blood would work, but I wanted to be more powerful than when I had fallen, I wanted _POOTER'S_ blood. The protection his mother had once given him would then reside in my veins too."

"That's kinda weird."

"_CRUCIO_. But how to get Pooter? I couldn't touch him at his relative's house, Petunia is a person, I attempt, I didn't even want to get near, he was well guarded at the school, and even at the World Quidditch Cup I could not get close to him. So I planted my faithful Death Eater at Hogwarts, ordered Pooter to be entered in the Triwizard Tournament, to be led along, and told him to make the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey, to bring him here, out of Dumbledore's help and protection, and here he is, the boy you all thought would be my downfall."

Harry mentally brought up an image of Dumbledore. "You sure it wasn't McGonagall's protection? Maybe Hagrid's…?"

Voldemort spun around to face Harry, his own long yew wand pointed right at him. "_Cruico!_" he cried, shooting out a red beam.

In the circle of Death Eaters, Goyle flinched, then relaxed as he saw the Dark Lord pointing at the boy. "Oh."

The red beam of light shot towards Harry, then at the last second randomly curved and flew over to hit Goyle.

"ARRGGGGHHHH!"

"I will now fight fairly with Pooter, and you will all see just who is stronger."

Goyle twitched on the ground, then slowly raised his head up. "Do you think that's such a good idea, considering the number of times he's beaten you?"

"_Crucio_. Now untie him Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

* * *

McGonagall stood in line with the other teachers, waiting still for the Triwizard Champion to come out.

"Do you think it should be taking them this long?" Professor Vector voiced aloud.

"You know Potter, he might take awhile…" Professor Flitwick suggested.

McGonagall sighed, then looked back at the school. "Dumbledore?" she asked, as he was seated in the grass beside her, sucking on a deer jerky stick.

"Hmmm?" he looked up at the Deputy Headmistress.

"Well, don't you think that maybe we should be doing something? Only, the 'Harry Alarm' has been going off for the last three hours."

Dumbledore pulled the jerky out of his mouth and laughed. "Don't worry about that, Minnie. It's just a malfunction."

McGonagall frowned. "Don't call me Minnie. And don't you think we should check it out? In the past we've always geared up for the alarm every single time."

The headmaster shrugged. "Eh. Don't worry about it. It's probably nothing."

The transfiguration teacher nodded. "Okay."

The teachers remained silent as they continued to stare out into the night at the huge leafy maze.

"Where did you get that, Albus?" McGonagall finally broke the silence.

Dumbledore blushed. "Nowhere."

Up in the stands, a boy with bright red hair and mold on his face jumped to his feet in outrage. "WHO STOLE MY DEER JERKY?"

* * *

With wand in hand, Harry faced off with Voldemort, his Death Eaters circling around them. This brought to mind, for Harry, memories of his childhood and his many fights on the playground with Dudley and his gang members surrounding them. The only difference was that with Dudley he had no fear of deat—no, it was about the same thing.

"I suppose it's too much to ask if I could put on my red cape of honor and glory and Gryffindor pride and courage?"

"Yes."

Harry sulked. "_Fine_."

"Now we bow, Pooter. Bow to death."

Harry dropped into a curtsy.

"MOCKING ME ARE YOU, POOTER? YOU WILL PAY!"

Harry stood back up. He was only trying to show good manners.

Voldemort raised his wand. "_Crucio!_" he cried once more that night.

Off in the corner of the graveyard, hiding behind a tree, Goyle screamed and dropped, flaying on the ground.

Voldemort turned to look at his seizing Death Eater. "Tricky, Pooter, I see Dumbledore has taught you a couple of tricks!"

Harry looked about the scene in confusion, then did the only thing that came to his mind; he dropped into another curtsy.

"CURSE YOU, POOTER! CURSE YOU!" Voldemort spun, doing a flying slash-y thing. It was unnecessary, but it did look pretty cool. "Now you will answer a silly question! _Imperio!_"

Harry stumbled backwards; a feeling of great bliss entered his mind, wiping away any other thought.

"Are you afraid, Pooter?"

'_Ahha!'_ Harry thought lazily. _'I've been practicing fighting this spell and can easily throw it off! I wouldn't say anything!'_

"Only of your lack of a nose."

'_Dammit.'_

"_Tarantallegra!_" Voldemort hissed as Harry's legs went into a crazy dance routine.

"JEEZ, CEDRIC, JUST SIT THERE DOING NOTHING!" Harry shouted over at him.

Before Voldemort could wind up to throw another curse, Harry flung himself sideways, ducking behind a giant cement grave-marker.

"We're not playing hide-and-seek, Harry." Voldemort cooed. "BECAUSE I WAS ALWAYS LEFT OUT OF THE GAME! Are you tired of our duel? I'll just kill you now!"

Harry snorted. It was fine to stand up and die with your back straight, looking your enemy in the eye, gloriously. Yeah, that was fine, the only problem Harry had with that was the whole 'dying' thing, so he wasn't going to be stupid. This once.

Harry army crawled over to Cedric, then grabbed a hold of him and dragged him to hide behind a different gravestone. "Don't worry," Harry patted Cedric's shoulder. "I have a plan." Harry peered out from his hiding place, and saw where the Triwizard Cup was laying. "Okay Deadric, you distract them, and I'll dive for the cup. Okay, got it? Break!"

Harry jumped out from behind the tombstone, and began sprinting towards the Cup. Voldemort wheeled around, spying him.

"Ahha!" He wielded his wand, flinging out a green curse: "_Avada Kedavra!_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry blocked.

The two spell lights met in midair, sending a shocking jolt back up through the wand and into Harry's shoulder. The two spells melted together, forming a bright gold color, Harry and Voldemort's wands were now connected.

"Do nothing!" Voldemort commanded his followers.

Nott blinked. "Yeah, I think we can do that…"

"Come on Cedric! What are you waiting for!?" Harry yelled over his shoulder.

Cedric hadn't moved.

"Fine! Make me do all the work! The others were right about you! You're nothing but a pretty boy with fine cheekbones and a Tarzan suit!"

Then something strange happened. Even for Potterland. Harry and Voldemort's feet left the ground, their trembling hands and wands still connected. They glided up and over the Death Eater's heads, and then, the golden light splintered. A thousand more beams of light sprayed out, crisscrossing in scrambled shapes and patterns, till both of them were encased in a web-shaped dome of golden light.

Big fat pearls of balled light began forming along the main string of golden light. Almost like giant beads of condensation sweating on a glass. These beads of light danced back and forth among the two wizards like a tug-of-war, then slowly began drifting towards Voldemort. They gathered into one big ball and were absorbed into his wand.

A high pitched scream shot out of the yew tip, danced around them, then faded.

Down below, Goyle smiled. "Hey! That sounds like me!"

Next something began blossoming out from the wand, a great grey something made from dense smoke…the body of Cedric Diggory.

Next the body of an old man appeared, then one of a middle aged woman.

"It's the merman!" The old man shrieked. "THE MERMAN!"

"GAH!" Voldemort screamed. "I told you, I'm not a merman, or a man! I'm a wizard!"

The middle aged woman rolled her eyes. "Well since no one else is saying it, I guess I'll have to say it myself: Don't let go, Harry."

Harry squinted at her. "How do you know my name!"

Out of Voldemort's wand, still others appeared. A young woman, then a young man. Also, oddly enough, an owl.

Harry looked over at this new couple.

"Hey! You look like me!" The man said.

"And have MY eyes!" the woman spoke up.

Harry gapped at them, struggling to form any words. "…Papa?"

The young man with trade-mark messy hair, took a step back. "_That's_ our son?"

The young woman patted him consolingly on the forearm. "Remember dear, we love him no matter what."

James shuddered. "I remember."

"I get it!" Harry spoke up. "All of you are dead!"

There was a slight pause. James burst into tears.

"Yess…" Bertha Jorkins said. "Way to go, Harry."

"Wait, then why is Hedwig here?" He indicated to the flapping ghostly owl. "Hedwig's not dead!"

Cedric looked over at the owl. "Well of course she is, that's why she's here."

"SHE'S ON VACATION!" Harry screeched. "SHE WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME!"

In the backdrop James had fallen to his knees, and Lily was trying to pull him to his feet. "MY SON IS A LOSER! NOOOOOOOO!"

Voldemort, for once in his life, stayed silent, watching the apparitions like a cat would watch a bird.

"Its—urg—okay…Harry!" Lily gasped as she bodily lifted James back onto his feet. "We're…here…to…help!"

James sighed, then stalked over towards Harry. "Okay listen, I know you're a loser, Harry, but do me proud, We'll try and block him, just don't make me regret it, okay?"

Harry grinned then turned his head to look at Cedric's body. "Did you hear that Cedric? We're going to be okay!"

Next Cedric's sprit stepped up to talk to him. "Yeah, um, Harry, since my ghost is here, that means I'm dead."

Harry blinked. "I don't understand." He turned to look once again at Cedric's corpse. "You're such a kidder!"

The ghost of Cedric sighed. "Whatever, but Harry can you take my body back? But file my nails and comb my hair? Harry? Harry? HARRY STOP TALKING TO MY BODY I'M DEAD."

"On the count of three, I want you to break the connection and run to the Portkey. Can you do that, honey?" Lily smiled at him.

Harry squinted. "What Portkey?"

"That one!" James suddenly screamed. "The cup that's labeled: **PORTKEY**!"

Harry gasped. "That's a Portkey! I'd never guess!"

James sighed. "Yeah…"

"Okay, I can run to the Portkey." Harry quickly searched his pockets. "Yeah, but first, can you all huddle around? I wanna be able to remember this."

And like the magic of a camera lens, everyone immediately started obeying directions.

"Yeah, Voldie? Can you lift the wand up a little higher? Yeah that's good. And random Death Eaters? I suppose it's too much to ask you to do some sort of tribal dance…? Hey! Yeah, exactly! Now, ghost people, just float around looking helpful. Right. On the count of three. One…Two…Three!"

The camera flashed, Harry placed it back into his pocket smiling. "That one's going in the scrapbook."

"Right, okay Harry, be ready to run…NO NOT YET! I HAVEN'T COUNTED TO THREE! YOU STUPID, STUPID BOY!"

"It's okay James," Lily patted her husband on the forearm once more as the other spirits surrounded Voldemort, blocking him from view. "Our little boy is all grown up."

James watched as Harry sporadically pumped his arms, running towards the Cup. "Yeah. Great."

Harry dived for Cedric, grabbed a hold of his sleeve then reached his arm out to touch the Cup…

…it was too far away.

Now how was he going to reach the Portkey? It wasn't like he had a magic wand that he could swish around and magically bring it to him!

Or was there? Harry vaguely remembered something Hermione had once taught him…

"Oh yeah! _Accio_ bomb!"

Harry frowned as an active grenade zoomed towards him. No, that wasn't it. Harry figured he'd just have to get up and walk over towards it.

"COME ON, YOU IDIOT!" his father's affectionate words floated over to him.

Voldemort growled angrily. "SOME ONE GRAB THAT POOTER!"

So, Harry got up, stumbled once when the bomb went off, then physically dragged Cedric's body through the dirt and mud and muck, and grasped the Portkey. "MY NAME'S POTTER!" he cried, and was whooshed away.

After the sprites had faded, Voldemort made his was back over to his followers.

"After all those months and months and _months_ of planning, no one _thought_ to grab the Cup!?"

"I have a wooden hand!"

"SHUT _UP_, WORMTAIL."

* * *

Harry appeared back on Hogwarts grounds, his half-a-centimeter cut was acting up and he could no long stand anymore. He could hardly remain conscious in fact.

And all around him people were screaming. Burst of wand light were pick pocketing the air. The stamped of running feet shook the ground, and Harry could only barely hear individual voices…

"Is that Potter? And Diggory?"

"Oh Merlin! He's dead!"

"Hot Diggory _Damn_! Diggory's dead!"

"Someone get Dumbledore!"

"He's dead! He's dead!"

'_I wonder who's dead?'_ Harry pondered as little gnats flew in and out of Cedric's mouth.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up into the eyes of a tricycle wheel. He looked up further.

"Let go of the body, Harry." Dumbledore commanded him. "Let go."

"He's back." Harry muttered. "Voldemort's back—and I have photographic evidence!"

"That's nice Harry, just let go of the body."

Harry looked over at Diggory. "What? Oh, yeah. You know he was no help at all. Had to do everything myself, like always. But he wanted me to bring the body back."

"Yes, that's right Harry."

"Albus, Albus!" McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder. "Amos is coming over here! Don't you think that someone should tell him before he sees the body?"

Dumbledore turned his bike back towards Harry. "Stay here, Harry." Dumbledore commanded, his propeller hat blowing in the wind.

There were more screams, cries and shrieking, high-pitched, but seeming so far away. Harry tried to concentrate, but his injuries made him feel like laying back down in the grass and sleeping. His sight seemed fuzzy and burned along the edges, unreliable and black.

"Come on Potter, let's go."

Someone had grabbed a hold of his shoulders and was steering him away from the scene.

"But Dumbledore said—"

"You need to sit down, rest; come with me."

Harry was led back to the castle and through the stone corridors. The person leading him made a _clunk clunk_ sound to each step.

"Here, Potter." Harry entered a room and was pushed into a chair. The person leading him was Professor Moody.

"Voldemort's back, you said? He's back?" Moody's face swam in focus, Harry's fatigue and painfulness-ness suddenly and randomly disappeared.

"HEY!" Harry jumped up and did a little jig. "I don't know what it is about this office, but even though I was in an extremely stressful situation for four hours worrying about my death and the survival of the free Wizardry World, and I had been bound and gagged and abused; suddenly I feel fine and dandy! Sure I'll talk in length about what happened! What do you want to know?"

"So did the Death Eaters return also? How did he treat them?" Moody pressed forward.

Harry thought on this, this sat straight up. "Oh yeah, speaking of Death Eaters, there's one at Hogwarts, I have to tell someone about it…by the way, I never really noticed, but you have some groovy pictures in this office. I like that one with the skulls and crossbones, also that one with the vampires, and the one with the muggle-torturing. Hmmm, the one with the blood is interesting, but I think my favorite is the one with the big skull with the snake coming out of its mouth and the letters RETAE HTAED A MA I underneath it. Huh, if I wasn't in such a state of shock and confusion, maybe I could realize they say: I AM A DEATH EATER backwards. Huh. Huh. Huh."

"Quiet, Potter." Moody pushed Harry back into the chair. "I know about the Death Eater."

"What? You do! Who is it? Have you told Dumbledore—I mean McGonagall? It was Karkaroff, wasn't it? I should have known with those fucked up teeth…did he put my name in the goblet?"

"No, it wasn't Karkaroff, he fled when he felt the call of my master, it was I."

Harry sat there, looking perplexed. "I? That's a weird name. What kind of mother names their child 'I'? I can almost understand why he became a Death Eater…"

"Not someone named 'I' you stupid boy! I! Me! I was the one who put your name in the Goblet of Fire! I was the person who fired the Dark Mark up into the air at the Quidditch Cup! I was the person who's been carrying your butt through all these challenges! So tell me, did he forgive those other Death Eaters, after they had fled from his side? When I was faithful above all others!?"

Harry scratched his head. "What exactly are you trying to say…?"

"I am a Death Eater! I alone remained faithful! I prepared to risk it all just to send him the one thing he desired! _You_."

"That's kinda kinky."

"The Dark Lord didn't manage to kill you like he so wanted to, instead I will take on that task, and we will be closer than ever before, closer than a father and a son. You see, Potter, we have so much in common, we both have our disappointing fathers' names, and we both had the pleasure to kill them to insure the continual rise of the Dark Order!"

"You have issues!" Harry shouted. "Deep, _rooted_, issues!" he looked up at the once-mentioned (which means VERY important to the plot) magical sensor mirror. People were coming closer. "Ah! You can try to kill me but people are coming to save me!"

They waited.

"Well this is embarrassing."

The evidently-not-Moody raised his wand, paused, looked once back at the door, and opened his mouth—

–still nothing.

Looked at the door again, and:

"_Stupefy!_"

Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall stepped into the room.

"We would have been here sooner but The Headmaster's beard got caught in the spokes." Professor McGonagall dully commented.

The blast from their wands had sent the imposter Moody sprawling, he was knocked out from the blow.

Snape carefully stepped over the debris, making sure not to dirty his opera coat. He bent down looking at Moody's hipflask, the liquid inside was leaking on to the floor. "Polyjuice." He sneered.

Dumbledore and McGonagall walked over beside him and pushed the false Moody into a sitting position.

"I think perhaps, with all the excitement, the imposter forgot to take his hourly dose." Dumbledore turned to Snape. "I don't suppose you have any Veritaserum about your person?"

Snape nodded, then reached inside his robes and took out a small clear vial with a label titled: FOR POTTER. He peeled this off before handing it to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore took the vial and opened it, then poured it down Moody's throat. "_Ennervate_."

Moody opened his normal eye and slowly began melting back to his normal appearance, the false eye and leg being distracted with a _thud, thud_! What person lay before them now was a middle aged man with straw colored hair.

Professor McGonagall gasped. "It's the Amazing Lizard Boy!"

Dumbledore frowned, popped in a lemon drop, then smiled. "I would like you to tell me how you came to be here." He said.

"My mother's the one who saved me." spoke Crouch Jr. "She convinced my father to switch places with me as her last request. She was dying. So my parents came to visit me, we switched places using Polyjuice Potion, she died shortly after, buried by the dementors. My father took me home, kept me concealed and controlled with the Imperius Curse."

Crouch suddenly grinned, his head rolling backwards. "But several things began to happen. Bertha Jorkins came to the house to talk to my father, she saw me. My father had to use a powerful Memory Charm to cover that up. Then my father was forced to take me with him to the Quidditch Cup, where I escaped and shot the Dark Mark up into the air…and then…" he started laughing. "My master came for me. He had captured Bertha and learned of my location. He needed me."

"KINKY!" Harry screamed.

"He arrived near midnight, and my father was now the one controlled, placed under the Imperius Curse. And my master asked something of me, he asked me to guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so…to turn the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey to my master, deliver to him Harry Potter. There was only minor inconveniences with my plan."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I suppose you're talking about kidnapping that whole tree?"

"My father escaped, yes. I had to do what I had to do. So I killed him, buried his body in the forest. Also Potter was surprisingly difficult to steer through the Challenges. I thought perhaps I'd have to take Polyjuice Potion again and do it for him."

"LALALALA I'M NOT LISTENING!"

Barty started laughing madly. "He has returned! He was called to his followers!"

Dumbledore turned to look at Harry. "You know, I'm still shocked that you made it out of the graveyard all by yourself."

Harry laughed. "Oh no, you see?" Harry reached into his robes and took out a wad of notes. "Hermione prepped me for _any_ situation."

McGonagall rolled her eyes.

Crouch suddenly jerked forward, grinning a nasty smile, his lips twitching. "_I'll show you mine if you show me yours._"

Snape's eyes widened. "What the hell?"

Harry suppressed a gag. "What? Like my baseball cards?" he narrowed his eyes. "_My mop collection?_"

McGonagall looked between them confused.

"Or do you just want my stash in the mini-golf course?" Harry glared.

"Go on Harry," Dumbledore said. "Show him yours."

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO!"

Snape stepped between them, pushing up Barty's sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark, then pushing up Harry's, exposing the half-a-centimeter cut.

"_Blood magic_." Dumbledore had a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

"What the hell was that?" Harry turned to look at the Headmaster.

"What? Sorry?" Dumbledore blushed.

"That freaking gleam of triumph, you sick bastard! You can't fool me!"

Dumbledore turned away from him. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Okay Potter, it's time for you to go to the Hospital Wing." McGonagall reached for Harry's arm, pulling him to his feet.

Harry turned to point at the old man as he was dragged out of the room. "We'll talk later."

* * *

Over the next three days as Harry rested from his extensive injuries, several things happened.

One, Barty Crouch Jr. had his soul sucked out of him by dementors. Not that that was so much of a loss, but it did put a serious crimp on Harry's story.

The Winnings were given to Harry and Cedric's body back to his parents.

Dumbledore had apparently sent Sirius off to gather up 'the old crowd', what ever that meant, which also included Hagrid and Madam Maxime going off on a journey as well.

Fred and George ganged up with the Goblin and Leprechaun mob to take down Ludo Bagman, and he was now missing…or possibly swimming with the fishes…

Karkaroff ran away from the castle and left the Durmstrang students all alone, and Snape had been asked to go spy on Voldemort by Dumbledore.

Hermione was discovered using Love Potions on an undercover sting operation and Krum had, after screaming about 'Rubbing Duckies', had been permitted to go home early.

Also, surprisingly, Hermione had discovered the Rita Skeeter was an illegal animagus! A bug, actually, who had been on spying on Harry the whole year. Hermione had some sort of deal worked out with her…captured in a jar…or something or another…

Also Fred and George had snuck in the middle of the night to steal Harry's winnings for their joke shop, but Harry didn't mind.

All in all, Harry was slightly happy to return to his friends on the last day of school.

* * *

"Harry!" Ron gasped, upon meeting him for the first time since he had entered the maze. "YOUR FACE!"

"I've always had that scar, Ron."

Ron smiled. "Oh yeah, kinda looks like Abraham Lincoln, right? If you turn your head this way…"

The Gryffindor trio had met up at the entrance to the Great Hall; Dumbledore was giving his end of the school year speech.

The Great Hall was cloaked in black banners rather than the usual house colors. The mood was somber and there wasn't any of the normal summer jitters and laughter like there normally was.

The Headmaster rose to his feet, and raised a glass. "There is much I would like to say to you tonight, first and foremost I would like to warn you, for Lord Voldemort has indeed returned from hiding."

There was a couple of wild mutterings before the crowd settled down again.

"Guard yourselves, choose your friends wisely, and above all else, venture out the hand of friendship, for allies are needed in the troubled times to come. Dark and difficult times lie ahead, and soon we must choose between what is right and what is easy."

Ron nodded sagely. "Like bingo."

"Second, I wish to credit Harry Potter, who has once again faced his annual June challenge and has come out alive…again. Good Job, Potter."

People hesitantly clapped, looking around confused.

"And finally I wish to honor a brave Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. He was loyal and brave, and just…"

Several people over at the Hufflepuff table looked slightly angry.

"Actually, he cheated off of me on every Charms test we ever had." One Hufflepuff boy spoke out.

"Yeah!" A girl stood up next. "He looked up my skirt every time we had Quidditch Practice!"

"SHUT UP!" A delicate flower of a voice screamed out. Cho Chang jumped to her feet. "He was the most perfect human being alive! No one will ever measure up to him! Especially not some stupid four-eyed loser!"

Harry looked up hopefully.

"—from Gryffindor."

He was depressed once more.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, we will all miss his high cheekbones, and empty treetops. But his memory still lives in our hearts…Oh. No, I'm just kidding that bitch is gone." Dumbledore smiled and spread his hands wide open to the student body. "Another year at Hogwarts finished!" and then a giant puff of smoke appeared where he was standing. After it cleared he inched away.

Hermione turned to look at her friends. "Well, that was enlightening."

* * *

Their bags were packed and everyone was headed towards the train.

Hermione watched sadly as the Beauxbatons carriages flew away and the Durmstrang ship exited. "Everything's going to be different now, isn't it?"

Ron burst into laughter. "No shit, Sherlock."

Hermione frowned then turned to look at Harry. "Are you really supposed to take that?"

Harry was struggling under the weight of the giant four-foot tall Triwizard Cup.

"Hey, I won the Tournament, didn't I?"

"Yes, but—"

"And I know they sprouted off a lot of stuff about honor and tack, but I thought, what the hell? I'm nicking it."

Ron gave him a thumbs up. "Way to be assertive."

Hermione sighed. "You know what, maybe if we all stay together as good friends we might blunder our way through things alive."

Harry snickered. "Like that'll ever happen."

And so the students left Hogwarts, leaving the castle bare except for a wildly rocking trunk in the Defense Against the Dark Art's office, who nobody paid much attention to anyways. "Hello…? ANYONE?!"

* * *

"I'm never going to find this girl!" Lucy had dozens of phone books stacked around her. She had used some of her sexual willies to convince one of the male teenage librarians to loan her every single phone book they had on record for the town in the past fifty years.

Jane N. Sane was actually pretty tricky to track down.

Four hours later, covered in a layer of dust, and after forty phone calls, Lucy had found a name: Patty Sane. She was Jane's sister and she had the information Lucy was looking for.

* * *

Lucy stepped out of her red Ford truck and immediately dropped to the ground.

After the booming echo of the shotgun blast she looked back up. An old woman in a flannel shirt and long baggy jean skirt was standing on the porch glaring at her.

"Who trespasses on my property?" She demanded.

Lucy waved a hand in the air before straightening back up. "Hi, I'm Lucy—"

_BANG! _

"Did I ask what you name was?" She sneered, cocking the gun once more.

Lucy's heart beat erratically as she once again stared at her truck tires. "Well actually, you d—"

_BANG!_

"Come up here and tell me your name!"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Right…" She pushed herself off the ground and walked over to the porch the woman was standing on. It was old and creaked when Lucy walked up the steps and the while paint that had once totally covered it was peeling in places.

Lucy forced a smile on her face. "Hi, my name's Lucy and I'm an intern from the City Paper. I was hoping to do a story on your sister, but I can't seem to get in contact with her. Would you mind answering some of my questions?"

The old woman frowned, her jaw clenching together. "I suppose you'd better come inside then."

Lucy sighed as the woman turned around and threw open the screen door; Lucy slipped inside before the door slammed back close.

After her eyes had adjusted to the dimly lit room she saw that she was standing in a kitchen, with a chicken spotted table cloth and bright blue curtains.

"Well?" Patty questioned her. "Sit down then."

Lucy eased herself into a small rickety wood chair. She cleared her throat. "As much as I would love a family's perspective on Jane's life, I was wondering if you could point me somewhere so that I could get in contact with her?"

Patty laughed in a wheezy voice, then coughed and shook her head. "If you get in contact with her, then I'd be surprised; no one's seen Jane in fifty years."

Lucy nodded, she had already known there was some sort of significance to fifty years ago. "Wow, she was your older sister, right?"

"Yep. She was twenty-five after the divorce."

Lucy leaned forward. "She that would make you at least—"

"Fifty." Patty nodded, slapping a hand on the table.

Lucy sat straight up, giving the woman a strange look. "No, that's not right. You'd have to be at least seventy—"

"I'm fifty years young." The woman glared.

Lucy giggled nervously, seeing the woman tighten her grasp on her gun. "Uh, you mentioned a divorce? Does that have anything to do with the reason she disappeared?"

Patty pushed against the table, scooting the chair backwards. She got up and began wondering around the kitchen—reaching for a foggy glass then turned toward the sink faucet.

"Jane had just gotten out of a bad relationship when she met Edmund C. Puzzle."

Lucy gasped; her hand flew to her heart. Jane had a connection to this 'Edmund!'

"He was a little bit younger than her and had just gotten out of a University. Their sarcastic natures seemed to feed off each other, because twenty days later they were married."

"Uh huh…" Lucy didn't see where this was going.

"Edmund and Jane were a very active couple when they were together; you see Edmund often went away on long business trips. Why, they did everything from swimming to the Bowling League."

Lucy sighed. This wasn't going anywhere.

"But then...one day Edmund didn't come back from one of his business trips…"

Lucy looked up suddenly, the wind had picked up and the shutters were banging against the siding of the house. A scrapping noise brought her attention back to the kitchen, Patty had stood up once again, but this time she had her gun hoisted to her shoulder.

"_You get out of this house!_" her voice echoed oddly, now slightly lighter in tone; her eyes glazed over. "_Picking and prying! You're just the same! You…you…loser!"_

Lucy jumped from her chair and scrambled to the door as the woman cocked the gun. "Ms. Sane…?"

"_Don't call me that! I'd still be a Mrs. if it wasn't for people like you!"_ The woman advanced on her. "_No one should have found out! No one!"_

Lucy gave up trying to keep her eyes on the crazy woman and instead focused all her energy on bolting from the house.

"_LITTLE STICKY FINGERS PICKING AND PRYING WHERE THEY DON'T BELONG!"_ A shot went off over her red pickup truck as Lucy slammed the screen door back close on the woman.

"_EDMUND!_" She screamed, her eyes clouded over.

Lucy pushed the key into the ignition and pulled away.

"_EDMUND!_"

* * *

I. Am. Dead. There is no funny left in me. I hope you are all happy because I think that about killed me. WOW. That better be long enough for you.

So, another year gone, Harry's growing up and out and such. We the authors are just super excited that we made it all the way through the fourth book, because most stories that go through the Harry Potter series always stop around there. Not to mention the fifth book is another favorite of ours.

In conclusion to the poll taken, we will be waiting for the fifth movie to come out, (and the seventh book, cuz there's bound to be GOLD in there too.) But don't fret, we've decided to do some summer chapters to keep you interested, and they should be interesting because now that Harry's out in the Muggle world there's no boundaries on what we can satire.

So I hope you all enjoyed this section of That Loser, and stay tuned!

_**Siriusly**_


	44. Scarface and the Gangs of Privet Drive

Summer's here! Well, not exactly, but in PotterWorld it is (keep in mind that in Potterworld, people also spontaneously turn into dogs, do magic, and name themselves Voldemort, so don't get too excited). We're up to Harry's fifth year summer and since there is no real plot per say defined by the books, we'll be making up a little bit of what we think the summer would be like for our favorite losers…and just adding whatever pops into our heads. Keep in mind chapters may not be updated extremely quickly until the fifth movie comes out, so just be patient, and we'll update as soon as we can.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, lots of allusions to random gangster movies. I know, I know…but what good would any Gang themed chapter be without the immortal words of Scarface and the Godfather, eh? Disagree with me, and you'll be swimming with the fishes.

**

* * *

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That Loser

**Chapter 44: Scarface and the Gangs of Privet Drive**

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square house of Privet Drive in an ominous haze. It was the sort of weather where you could fry an egg on the hood of your Mercedes—assuming, that is, that you have a Mercedes…or an egg, for that matter. And then we've got the issue of fried versus poached in categories of taste and ease of preparation, but since this is a Mercedes we're roasting on, we might as well make Eggs Benedict. After all, we can exactly scramble them with a slab of lard, now can we—this is a _Mercedes_.

That day on Privet Drive, above the occasional spitting sound of an egg frying on the hood of a Mercedes, there could be heard a rustling, tinny thumping sound coming from inside the mail box outside of number twenty-three Privet Drive. Who could be out on a day like this?

The mail slot opens and a long, pale nose and one green-blue…brown-gold….sort of hazelish…flecks of violet really…

At this point the narrator gives up and stalks away to go fry an egg on her Mercedes. After all, we all know who this mysterious new character is. What loser would be stupid or desperate enough to hide inside of a mailbox?

Harry Potter stuck his nose out of the mailbox; he could almost peek inside the window of his aunt and uncle's house to see the television. The news was on, after all, and Harry was dying to find out what was happening in the world. He had seen Voldemort come back with his own eyes a few weeks ago and wasn't about to do nothing. And besides, no one had sent him any letters yet, and he was bored. But the summer was still young! And besides, he reasoned, what better place to wait for news than inside a mailbox?

Bits of conversation wafted from the open window and echoed weirdly in Harry's mailbox hideout.

"—t's happening on the news today, Petunia?"

"Well, I see that the Queen isn't dead yet."

"Oh really? Thought she'd be kicking it any day now."

"Honestly Vernon, keep your voice down! I hear they've got wiretaps, listening devices in our phones, surveillance on our homes. I just don't like it, Vernon."

"Shhhh! Don't make me report you to the thought police, Petunia!" Vernon coughed. "Well, at least the Potter boy's gone. Not as if there'd be anything about _his lot _in _our news_!"

Behind Vernon, the tv newscaster shuffled his papers. "—new developments on the Edmund murder cases remain illusive. In other news, there was another sighting of El Lupo today in London. Over to you, Cynthia."

"Thanks, Tom. I've got El Lupo in person here to talk about his recent fight for justice. Tell me, El Lupo, to what do you attribute your success?

"Magic."

"Oh, well…really? That's certainly…you must hear this all the time, but your mustache is exceptionally sexy."

Tom coughed. "It is, you know."

"Yes, _thank you_ Tom!"

Vernon was ignoring El Lupo and his sexy mustache. "I don't like it, Petunia, that Potter boy trying to watch the news and all. It's _unnatural_. Dudley never watches the news, and look how well he's turned out. Huh, I don't think he even knows who the Prime Minister is!"

"Exactly Vernon, and after all he's only a little slow, you know, and the drool is barely noticeable."

"That's my boy! Where is Dudeykins, anyways?"

"Oh, he's out for tea at the Perkins'."

Harry had had enough. "OUT FOR TEA? WHAT KIND OF IDIOTS ARE YOU? SURE DUDLEY'S A PANSY, BUT HE'S NOT TO THE HAND-FLIPPING, TEA SIPPING, PRETTY IN PINK STAGES YET! HAVE YOU ALL GONE _**MAAAAAAAD?!**_" Harry gasped and slapped his hand over his mouth. What was happening? Why was he yelling and using lots of exclamation points?! What was going on?!?!

Somewhere across the street, eggs sizzled.

Vernon stuck his large purple head out of the window. "GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW, BOY, AND I'LL RIP YOUR HEAD OFF!"

Harry blinked. "Don't you mean 'Get in here right now, boy, OR I'll rip your head off.' I mean, that doesn't give me much incentive to me, as the boy in question, to get in there."

Vernon turned a darker shade of purple. "Fine! Get in here, boy, _**OR **_I'll rip your head off!"

Harry thought for a minute. "Hmmm…nope. Fry you later, Pruneface." Harry skipped off down the street to the manic yelling of Vernon growing steadily quieter in the distance.

It hadn't exactly been an eventful summer for Harry. He'd spent most of it finding hiding places where he could listen to the news. He'd found his Secret Mailbox, Secret Under-The-Hydrangea-Bushes, Secret On The Couch In Front Of The Television (which never really seemed to work out all that well), and Secret Scrunching Up In The Crawlspace Under The House. But after the horribly traumatic experience of getting stuck there for several hours, Harry was a bit hesitant to try that one again. So, what now?

Harry looked around, but the entire street was deserted. Sighing, Harry dug his hands into his pockets and trudged down the street towards the small playground.

He suddenly frowned, staring at the ground where a coin lay rusting in the gutter. Having no one to talk to, Harry was once again forced to talk to inanimate objects to get out important plot points. "Hey, don't push me, Penny, cause I'm close to the edge. I'm trying not to lose my head!" Harry broke out into random beat boxing while Grandmaster Flash layed down The Message.

The penny seemed to stare at him disapprovingly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, sorry. I'm just in a little bit of a slump, is all. I mean, no one has even written me yet, and I'm all alone here."

The penny gleamed dully on the pavement.

"Moping?! I am not moping! I'm angsting! Honestly, Penny, it's a perfectly normal pastime for tragic heroes like myself. And besides, the whole neighborhood is ignoring me. Uncle Vernon told everyone that I was a dangerous criminal going to Saint Brutus' School for the Criminally Insane, and now everyone is afraid of me!"

Under Harry's shoe, an errant bag of potato chips crackled.

"STOP LAUGHING AT ME, CHIP! No, no, I'm okay. Stop it, Penny, you're just encouraging him."

Harry was approaching an abandoned playground when he caught sight of Dudley and his gang terrorizing a young boy.

"Hit him again, Big D!"

"Yeah, throw him a left hook!

"Knock his face in, D!

Harry gasped. Gang fights, in this neighborhood? Not on his watch! Frantically tying on his red cape, Harry leapt into action.

Or more accurately, leapt right into a trashcan, which rattled loudly on the pavement. A tough-looking kid with a switchblade blocked Harry's escape. "Hey kid, what you doin' here, eh? You suicidal?"

Harry didn't panic. He knew exactly what to say to these gang-types. "Hello there. I see that you are very gangster. I am pretty gangster myself!" Harry grinned widely, pulling his pants down a little bit and swaggering around as if he were drunk. "Yo yo! What is up! You are a dog, and I am fat!"

Switchblade eyed Harry, who was frantically throwing gang signs in the background. "Big D, you want me to cut him, man?"

Harry stopped swaggering long enough to snort. "Big D?"

Dudley reddened. "Shut it."

"Big D?!" Harry laughed, choking on his own spit. "Okay, okay, wait. BIG D?! Oh, this is just too good!"

"Shut your face!" Yelled Big D.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno if I can Big D, I mean, it doesn't really suit you. Hmmm…does your little group here have a name?"

Switchblade scowled. "Big D and the—"

"Blades!"

"Fists!"

"Wolves!

"The Association of Anarchy!"

Everyone turned to stare at the skinny blonde kid in the back. "What? I thought it was kind of clever!"

Big D shook his head once.

Switchblade smirked. "Big D says you shame him. Now get out of my sight."

The blonde kid scampered away.

Harry stared at Switchblade kid.

Switchblade shrugged. "What? We're experiencing some creative differences. It's a work in progress, okay?"

"Big D can't even name his own gang?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Dudley, now purple in the face, tried to breathe evenly, "Spike, ask him what he wants."

A bulky kid with a crooked nose—Spike, apparently—approached Harry cautiously. He'd heard from Joe "Sidewinder" Donnelly that the Potter kid had done serious time. Kung Fu Kong swore that he'd seen Potter dragged out of the Dursley's to a squad car covered in blood. Kidneys McCoy swore on his mother's grave that Potter had been holding a severed leg. But that was probably made up though, because Spike knew Kidneys' mom lived in Detroit. Very good-looking woman…well, you know, for her age and all. Not insinuating anything, of course. Er…

All the same, Spike approached with caution, giving the Potter kid the benefit of the doubt. I mean, sure, he looked like a total loser, but it could just be part of his act. Spike gave Harry one short nod, the universal tough guy signal that says 'I am bad and I acknowledge that you are also bad'. "Yo Potter, how was your time in the pen?"

Harry squinted. What was meant by this barbaric jargon? When was he 'in the pen'? Did he mean something with drugs? Probably drugs, Harry decided. With these gang types, it was always about the drugs.

"Yes, 'the pen'. Er…colorful mostly, though I got kind of dizzy there at the end."

Spike nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, the institutions can really get to you after a while. Just don't drop your soap in the shower, eh? Best advice I ever got—nearly saved my life. But then I forgot it, so well…"

Dudley butted in. "Look, what do you want, Harry. I'm kind of busy here with my little friend Mark Evans, here." He held up a small boy with a nosebleed and a lazy eye.

The small boy sniffled clutching a few quarters tightly in one fist. "Don't take my…my milk money!"

"FOR THE LAST TIME, I DON'T WANT YOUR STUPID MILK MONEY!" Dudley screamed.

Harry frowned. "So why are you beating him up?"

Dudley twitched. "He looked at me funny."

"He's got a lazy eye!" sighed Harry, exasperated.

Mark Evans sniffled. "Milk moneeeeeeeey."

"SHUT UP!" Screamed Dudley, covering his ears.

Mark Evans lazy eye finally caught up to his good eye with a slight squelching sound as he stared at Dudley crookedly.

"That's it, I'm going to end this kid!" Dudley threw back his hand for a punch.

Harry grabbed his wand. "Touch him and I'll end you!"

Dudley's Gang gasped.

A shorthaired girl named Rizz waved a finger. "Oh no he didn't! He's calling you OUT, Big D!"

"Take him, D!"

"Yeah! Yeah…um…yeah!"

"Why's he holding a stick?"

Dudley looked conflicted. Fight the Magic-Wonder-Boy-Who-Could-Do-No-Wrong, or lose face in front of his friends. Tough choice. Though he supposed that it was no choice, really. Looking scared was not an option. Back down now, and he might as well start going "out to tea" and wearing designer loafers. Dudley shuddered at the thought. There was only one choice.

"One fight," Big D said, "to end all this. Three days, meet us at the corner of Privet and Mulberry. My gang against your gang." Dudley smirked. "You game?"

Harry, falling behind and losing ground fast, stuttered. "Uh. Wait…my gang…?"

"Weapons?" asked Big D.

Harry blinked. "Uh…"

Spike shrugged. "Heaters, switches, knuckles, and a good half, yeah?"

Big D nodded. "Fair by us. Fair by you?"

Harry blinked. "Uh…yes?"

Big D nodded once and turned his back, dropping Mark Evans in a heap and walking away. Switchblade smirked and Spike shrugged at Harry as if to say 'you brought this on yourself, mate'. Harry really did miss Ron right now.

"So are we going to have a rumble, then?" shouted Harry after Big D and the Artistic Differences, but they had already disappeared around the corner.

Mark Evans picked himself up off of the ground, grinning. His eye spun crazily. "Gee thanks, Harry, you saved my life!"

Harry blinked, staring after Big D. This could be bad. This could be real bad.

* * *

**Meanwhile, in Ron's bedroom…**

"Just take it off, Ron."

"I'm trying, don't push me Hermione. Ouch, woman! I'm trying, okay?!"

"Just stay calm. Think happy thoughts."

"Ginny, can you scoot over a little, you're making this more difficult."

"Um…Ron? Aren't you worried about how this is going to look?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, what people will say. It's pretty…unconventional."

Ron snorted. "Mum and dad will sure be speechless! Eh?"

"Oh, they'll totally accept you…eventually." Hermione frowned. "Well…"

"_A blemish on the Weasley name_, blah blah blah. They'll probably disown you, Ginny."

"Me? What do you mean me? It's not as if I could do this by myself!"

"Well you probably could, you know. A few well placed mirrors and determination…"

Hermione sighed. "Do you know what people at Hogwarts will say when they find out?! Lavender Brown will absolutely die of laughter! Then she'll probably just die."

"Narrow-minded fools, don't know art when they see it!" Ron held the scissors a few inches above Ginny's hair, applying another foil with the other hand.

Hermione frowned at Ginny in the mirror. "Gin, are you sure this is what you want?" Hermione studied the magazine picture Ginny had picked out. "It's very…big. You know, bold and very…purple."

In the background, Ron was mixing rainbow colored pastes with a mad-scientist cackle.

Ginny squinted away from Ron the mad chemist. "He's blinding me with science!"

Ron laughed. "No, Ginny, that's the conditioner. Now hold still." Ron wacked Ginny in the head with a hairdryer.

"He hit me with technology!"

Hermione eyed Ron's efforts, more enthusiastic than precise, skeptically. "Ginny, are you sure about this?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, which were quickly disappearing under a ragged fringe of bangs, "Oh please, I am so ready for people to stop recognizing my last name by the color of my hair. I want to be an individual!"

"Ginny, trust me, you don't want to be this _much _of an individual." Hermione pleaded.

From somewhere inside the growing hurricane of red hair flying around the room, Ron waved a scissored hand. "Don't let her talk you out of it, Gin. You're going to look _fabulous_!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Fabulous?"

The frantic shearing sound stopped. "Um, great. Cool, you know. Good. Not fabulous! Good. Yeah."

Hermione snorted. "Riiight. Try not to get too into the moment, okay Ron?"

The shearing continued. "There, voilá! I am finished, and I must say, I think I did a great job. Considering that I've never cut hair before."

Hermione stared, openmouthed.

Ginny was bouncing with anticipation. "Mirror! Mirror! GIVE ME THE MIRROR, RON!"

At this moment, the door opened, admitting a shuffling Mrs. Weasley. "Ron, dear, I need you to put away your laundr…oh. GINNY WEASLEY, WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR HAIR?!"

Ron shook his head in wonder. "It's amazing. She doesn't even need a Howler to break the sound barrier!"

Ginny gulped. "Um…you like it, mum?"

Mrs. Weasley blinked, then cocked her head to one side. "_Weasley…senses…tingling. _Ron, Hermione, we've got to go right now!"

Hermione frowned. "Go where?"

Mrs. Weasley gasped, her eyes blank as she listened to the Weasley Psychic Hotline. "The Order is reforming!"

Ron stared. "Ooookay…if you start prophesying, I'm out of here."

Ginny waved a hand in the air. "Hello?! What about me? Can I go _please _mum?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Well, I guess we could put a bag over your head when we had to go out in public…"

Percy peeked around the doorframe. "Mum, can I go with you? You know, I thought it'd be a good way for us to reconnect as a family."

"Now Ron, I need you to start packing—"

"—learn new things about each other—"

"—Hermione dear, could you pick up those shards of mirror, please?"

"—and just generally have some family bonding time with people who know my name."

Mrs. Weasley blinked. "Oh, hello forgotten child. Um…wait, don't tell me. Let's see, there was Charlie (such as successful dragon researcher) and Bill (what a lovely boy, it's a shame about that earring, though) then Fred and George of course (the lovable little rascals) then my little Ronnykins, and Ginny…my little angel! Wait…one, two, thr—oh yes, there was that one. Um…child-who-escapes-my-memory…"

Percy stared, openmouthed. "It's Percy, mum! PERCY!!!"

Mrs. Weasley waved a hand. "No, that wasn't it."

Ron blinked. "Whoa, Weatherby. Settle, dude. Caps lock is sooooo last chapter. And let's not even get started on that sweatervest."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Okay, seriously Ron, get rid of the scissors right now. They're messing with your mind."

"Super! Hermione, do you want to go out for tea?"

Hermione gasped. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

"He blinded me with science!"

"No, Ginny dear, that's a paper bag. Just until your hair grows back, you understand. Come along now, Wendell."

"IT'S WEATHERB…I MEAN PERCY!"

* * *

"Harrrriiiiiieeeeee. Harrrrrrrriiiiieeee. _Haaarrrrrrrrriiiiieeeeee!"_

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

"We're on a street, Harry!"

Mark Evans bounced behind Harry as he stalked back to the safety of his Secret Mailbox.

"Look, kid, can you please just leave me alone?"

"You _saved _me!" Mark sniffed. "You're AWESOME."

Harry sighed. "Look, kid—"

"Mark!" said Mark enthusiastically, his eye rolling disconcertingly.

Harry cringed, watching Mark's eye in morbid fascination. It really was kind of creepy if you looked at it too long. "Er…right. Look, I really can't have you following me. I need to round up a gang to fight Big D and his gang of presently unnamed cohorts!" said Harry, walking in front of the large cruelly barbed iron fence of Saint Brutus' School for the Criminally Insane and sighed. "Where can I find so many tough, loyal thugs on such short notice…or any notice at all, really. Where? WHERE?!"

"Harry, just calm down." Mark's eye swiveled to gaze at Harry solemnly.

Harry winced. "Okay, that's just creepy."

"Harry, I have a plan! Thugs run in packs, like wolves. I heard that if you bite the biggest one on the ear, they will declare you their leader and be your loyal pack!"

Harry frowned. "Really?"

Mark bounced up and down eagerly. "Trust me, Harry. Please trust me! All my life people have been running away from me, and although you're also running away, you don't run very fast (mostly on account of the tripping), and you didn't leave me to die! That's got to count for something!" Mark smiled crookedly at Harry, "This is the most accepted I've ever felt. _Please?!_"

Harry turned away, weighted down by the giant guilt trip Mark had just dropped in his lap. How could he say no to the poor little kid? And besides, it sounded reasonable to him, and he was out of options. "Well…"

Mark jumped for joy. "Hooray! Thank you, Harry! But where are we going to find a pack of thugs?"

Harry frowned, resting his arm on the Saint Brutus' fence. "Hmmmm…think Harry, think!"

Harry paced, kicking a wadded up, _**Saint Brutus' School: Keeping Your Neighborhood Safe From Dangerous Criminals, As Long As We Can Function On Your Generous Donations. Please Give A Donation…OR ELSE!**_ flyer swirling errantly in the vagrant breeze.

Harry bit his lip. "Now, let's see. Somewhere big, of course, where there are a lot of thugs gathered. It would help if they needed me for something, say to escape from…oh, I don't know…some sort of institution. They'd have to be completely insane, of course, to take this on. And criminals, probably. Almost criminally insane…."

Mark nodded helpfully. "Yes?"

Harry sighed. "I got nothing. You?"

Mark shrugged. "The kids at Saint Brutus' are criminals. And they're pretty insane. I heard one of the guys cut off his own ear and sent it to his brother!"

"No, you're thinking of Vincent Van Gough."

"That's the one!"

Harry shrugged. "What do I have to lose but a few teeth, control of my bladder, and my dignity?"

"But then you gain so much more! Dentures, Depends, welfare, and a cool respirator! Whadda ya say, Harry? Eh?"

Harry sighed. "All right, we'll go tonight."

"Whoopee!" Mark's eye jittered enthusiastically.

Harry twitched. "Yeah…why don't you just close that eye for now, Mark. Okay?"

Mark shrugged. "Okay. Don't see what the big deal is…"

"Just trust me, it's best for everyone. _Tightly closed_! Yes, just like that."

* * *

"Ooh, ooh, Harry, can I be your wingman?"

"Shut up, Mark. They could be anywhere, observing our movements and waiting to strike!

"Wait, I hear something! Can you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"Can you hear the love tonight?"

"This is serious! And keep that eye closed."

"Right, boss!"

"Mark, couldn't you just join the fan club and worship from afar?"

"Look, over there! A gathering of miscreants!" In the exercise yard, a few students in black and white striped uniforms were tossing a ball around—fairly harmless. The fact that the ball was in fact a skull should have tipped them off, though.

Harry breathed deeply, shaking out his hands. Now was the time for action. Harry suddenly jumped out from behind a crate. "Felicitations, malefactors! I am looking to acquire an anarchistic band of loyal flunkies to facilitate the surmounting of a iniquitous posse of malevolence! Who will join me?!"

A red haired kid with a missing ear and bad teeth tossed the skull back and forth nonchalantly. "Do you want to die kid, or are you just stupid?"

Mark peeked out from behind a bush. "Pssst! Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, I heard Hermione say it once. Sounded impressive, right?"

"Um, Harry, I think you should run. Now."

Harry laughed. "Nonsense! I know what I'm doing!"

The horde of angry and extensively tattooed children with baseball bats and hockey sticks crowded the schoolyard.

Harry, now cornered, started to sweat. "Look, guys, can't we all be friends?"

The red haired kid slipped on a pair of brass knuckles. "Hmm…I guess you're just stupid after all. Pity. Kill him."

Harry grimaced, squaring his chest to face his attackers. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you give me no choice! AAAARRRRRGGGHHH!" Harry suddenly jumped onto the kid with the brass knuckles, seizing him by his red hair and biting down firmly on his ear.

The red haired kid made a high shrieking noise and fell to the ground, holding the side of his bleeding head. "He bit me ear clean off!"

Harry, suddenly realizing that he had an ear in his mouth, spit out the offending piece of flesh quickly. "I…I didn't know I had it in me. _What kind of person am I?!_ I'm like Hannibal the Cannibal! Except that my name doesn't rhyme with cannibal, which makes it all so much less commercial…"

A large girl with a huge tattoo of a bleeding rose on her arm addressed the now completely earless redhead. "Should we take him out?"

"WHAT?" he shouted. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU! STOP WHISPERING!"

"DO YOU WANT US TO END HIM?"

"WHAT?!"

"DO YOU WANT US TO END HIM?!"

"HOW CONSIDERATE OF YOU TO ASK! YES, I WOULD LIKE THE BLUE ONE, IF YOU DON'T MIND!"

The girl shook her head. "He took out Vinny!" She stared at Harry in wonder.

Harry stopped gnawing on Mark's arm. "Pleeeh…whatever they tell you, it doesn't taste like chicken."

The girl fell to her knees in front of Harry. "You're the new leader now, and I pledge my bulk to you. But if you screw up I'll hit you so hard in the mouth that your brains will ooze out of your eye sockets like with the consistency of chocolate pudding."

Harry shrugged. "Fair enough."

Vinny squinted. "WHAT?! DID SOMEONE SAY PUDDING?!"

Harry nodded. "Right. Now here's your mission, if you chose to accept it: Big D challenged me (that would be me) and my gang (that would be you) to a rumble on the corner of Privet and Mulberry tomorrow. He also said something about heated half knuckles, or whatever, but that's not important. Will you join me?"

The large girl came forward first, dragging earless Vinny. "I'm Melinda the Whale, and this is Vincent, but we just call him Vinny."

"IS IT BUNNY TIME ALREADY?"

"He's _real _artistic," whispered Melinda conspiritally.

"Oh, that's bad?" Harry asked.

"It messes with your mind, all that impressionism and perspective stuff. Just look what it did to Pablo, over there."

A dark haired kid in a red paint-spattered apron giggled, holding his head sideways as he stared at a potted flower.

"He likes painting people with noses on the sides of their heads and things broken up into cubes. Ironically enough, he does about the same thing in a fight, too. Real useful guy, Pablo, just a little…odd."

Mark's lazy eye squelched. "Doesn't look so odd to me."

Pablo saluted Harry. "Yo!"

Harry nodded. "I see. Who else?"

Melinda led Harry down the row. "Well, there's Pee Wee Morgan."

An extremely short boy with a necklace of kneecaps around his neck jittered compulsively. "Hehe…ehehehe…hehehe."

Melinda shook her head. "Poor little Pee Wee. He's a collector, you know. Got the kneecaps of everyone who ever called him 'little fella' on that there string. And a couple from people that just looked at him funny."

Without taking his eyes off of Pee Wee, Harry instinctively covered Mark's eye.

Mark raised a hand. "What about you?"

Melinda shrugged. "Eh. I killed a guy with a paperclip."

Harry took a large step away from Melinda. "Oh…that's nice."

"Oh, it wasn't a big thing, really. Now, who else…oh, and here's Done It Duncan."

"I DONE IT!"

"Of course you did, Duncan."

"I DONE IT!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Okay, is there anyone here that _isn't _insane?!"

Melinda pointed to the corner. "Well, there's Hugo."

A boy rocked slowly back and forth in fetal position, sniffling loudly. "I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. LET ME OUT OF HERE! IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, LET ME OU—" The voice was cut off with a sickly gurgling.

Melinda seemed to be counting on her fingers. "This has been, what, two weeks?" She sighed and handed a grinning Pablo a wad of bills.

Harry stared at a convulsing leg as it was slowly dragged into the shadows.

"Poor Hugo," said Melinda sadly. "Never stood a chance."

Melinda finally stopped at the end of the short row of ragtag criminals. "Well, everyone else thinks you're crazy, so this is it."

Harry stared. "_They _think _I'm _crazy?"

Melinda shrugged. "Duh. Who else would try to bite someone's ear off? Honestly!"

"I DONE IT!"

* * *

**Meanwhile, on Privet Drive…**

Spike giggled while he spray-painted the side of Harry's Secret Mailbox.

Big D stood behind him watching. "Ha! That'll teach Harry to disrespect me!"

Spike stood back to admire his work.

Behind him, Switchblade turned his head to the side. "What does it say?"

Spike smacked him on the back of the head. "Duh, nitwit, it says DD! As in, I'm Big D, and I'm so bad that my name requires two D's _and _I'm going to sign your secret lair! Huh! That'll teach 'em!"

Switchblade rubbed his head. "DD? What does that stand for, anyways?"

"Doris Day?"

"Big D has Double Ds?"

"Danny DeVito?"

"Dom DeLuise?"

"Doctor Demento?"

"Dudley Do Right!"

"Daniel Radcliffe." Switchblade shrugged. "What?"

Spike frowned. "Hmm…you're right." With a quick sizzle of paint, he changed the first D to a B. "There, BD, Big D. As in, that's my name, and don't wear it out!"

"Bette Davis"

"Bob Denver."

"ENOUGH!"

Spike changed the second D. "There! BB, as in, I'm so dangerous, I'm named after a kind of bullet!"

"Big Bird!"

Big D's face was bright red. "That's enough! Just leave it."

"Bugs Bunny."

"CUT IT OUT!!!"

* * *

Harry stroked his beard thoughtfully. Well…he stroked his chin thoughtfully where there would have been a beard if he were either three years older or taking steroids. Since neither of those things applies, Harry stroked his beardless chin thoughtfully.

"I now call this first meeting of my new gang into order." said Harry, still stroking his beardless chin thoughtfully. Then he pounded a gavel a few times for good measure.

"HELLO," said Vinnie, "MY NAME IS VINNIE, AND I AM AN ALCOHOLIC."

"'Ullo, Vinnie," mumbled the collected group.

"IT HAS BEEN THREE WEEKS SINCE MY LAST Al-CO-HOL-IK BEVERAGE."

There was a sparse scattering of applause.

Melinda shrugged at Harry. "I dunno, old habits die hard, I guess."

"TELL ME ABOUT IT," muttered Vinnie.

Harry frowned. "I thought you said three weeks!"

Vinnie shrugged. "I LIED. SO WHAT, THAT'S WHAT THUGS DO, YOU KNOW? WE'RE GENERALLY DISHONEST. I'M JUST DOING WHAT COMES NAT'URLLY."

Harry sniffed. "Well I'll never be a thug. I stand for truth, justice, light, and the British way!"

Vincent shook his head. "YOU GONNA HAVE TO SQUARE WIT YO INNER HOODLUM SOMEDAY, MATE."

Harry wasn't so sure about that. Was what he was doing right? If, through using a gang he was doing the right thing, then could a gang itself then sometimes be good? Harry shook his head—the moral conundrums that heroes have to brood about, honestly!

Harry addressed the group. "Do you ever think about if you're doing the right thing?"

Pee Wee shrugged. "I'm just in it for the pillaging."

"PILLAGING!"

"No, not yet, Vinnie."

"Sometimes you can even get some boots with a little wear in them yet after a rumble. There's good eatin' on a boot like that. Ehehehe. Boots." Pee Wee slurped.

Harry squinted. "You wouldn't happen to know any hobos, would you?"

"Me dad!"

"Oh really?"

"I et him once. No wait, that was me _other _dad…Nah, that was just him boots."

Harry blinked. "Right. Now, next order of business. We need a gang name! You know, something scary."

"The Jackson Five!"

"Scary…but for an entirely different reason…"

"Something more edgy. Something vicious!"

"The Baby Killers!"

"Too edgy."

"The Nuclear Fallout."

"Nah, too atomic."

"THE DEAD RABBITS!"

"Good…but it's already taken."

Mark jumped up and down. "Oooh! Ooh! I got it! **Fallen**. You know, one word…like Madonna…or Cher..."

"Uh…next?"

"Du Hast!"

"Too German."

"I DONE IT!"

Harry shrugged. "Nah, too obvious."

"The Plastic Surgeons!" piped Pablo.

Harry brightened. "Yeah, I like it!"

Melinda cleared her throat solidly behind Harry. "I don't like it."

Harry smacked Pablo across the forehead. "I hate it! What were you thinking, huh? Stupid kids…"

"Scarface and the Brutes," said Melinda. "You know, to honor good 'ol Saint Brutus."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Hate it. Next!"

Melinda stepped very slowly on Mark's foot with one spiked stiletto heel.

Mark squeaked. "Scarface and the Brutes, I like it! It's got rhythm, it's got music, it's got my man, who could ask for anything more?"

Harry "Scarface" nodded once to show approval.

And Scarface and the Brutes were born. Be afraid. Be sooooo afraid.

* * *

The next day dawned over a sleepy Privet Drive. However, the air held a sort of stifled stillness, a wave of surprising coolness after a four-week heat wave.

On adjoining Mulberry Street, the pavement rippled like water in an allusion of the light. Suddenly a dark mass seemed to rise from the shimmering, jumping mirage, sunlight gleaming off of a myriad of shiny partially concealed metal.

On Privet Drive, a large group of thugs stood eerily silent except for the sound of kneecaps clanking like macabre wind chimes in the slight dry breeze.

Harry "Scarface" Potter stepped forward, the action mirrored by Big D opposite him. Harry flexed his trigger finger while Big D pulled a cowboy hat down over his eyes. Tumbleweed blew across the pavement.

And then came a McDonalds sandwich wrapper, an empty carton of cigarettes, a Saint Brutus' flyer, a cat with square markings around its eyes, Colin Creevy, and a Mercedes with an egg frying on its hood, but all that is unimportant. It's all about the _ambiance_.

Big D spoke first. "This town ain't big enough for the two of us."

"Not to mention our flunkies," pointed out Harry helpfully. "And technically this isn't a town…it's a street."

D turned red, and gritted his teeth. "Clear out now, and I'll save ye the embarrassment of a quick defeat."

Harry blinked. "No really, this street really _isn't _big enough for the two of us. It's kind of cramped.

Behind Big D, Spike was being inadvertently smashed into the Perkins' hedges by Melinda's bulk. Pablo was standing practically on top of Switchblade, Harry was getting elbowed by Rizz, and Duncan's shoulder was digging into Dudley's stomach.

An balding man wearing a bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee stooped to pick up the newspaper from his font porch. "Hey you kids, cut that out! You're stepping on my tulips!"

Big D blinked. "Er…right. Relocate to the docks in ten minutes?"

"Right."

"Right."

'AND WATCH THAT LAWN KNOME!"

* * *

**Ten minutes later, on the docks…**

"So Harry, ONCE AGAIN, I'm going to tell you to clear out of this town, and I'll save ye the embarrassment of a quick defeat!"

Harry glared. "Not a chance, Dudley."

Big D quirked an eyebrow, putting on a pair of brass knuckles. "Scared Potter?"

Harry fought to arrange the muscles in his forehead into a single raised eyebrow, but kept on raising two. Why could Dudley do the eyebrow thing and look all cool?! Harry settled for closing one eye and wrinkling his nose a little. His eyebrows flopped around on his forehead like two lovesick caterpillars. "You wish!"

Sirius was sitting in a lawn chair under a tree wearing sunglasses and a PROUD SOCCER MOM t-shirt. "That's right, hit 'em again, Harry!"

Harry's mouth hung open. "Sirius, what are you doing here?!"

Sirius turned serious. Italian music started to play. "Harry, my boy, the family always sticks together. I'm the Godfather, and I'm here for you. The best advice I can give you, my boy: leave the gun, take the cannoli."

Harry nodded. "Cannoli, right."

Dudley tightened his fist.

Harry chewed thoughtfully on a cannoli.

The whole scene narrowed to a widescreen-letterbox format.

Things inexplicably went all black and white.

Mark was bouncing up and down, his lazy eye rolling crazily. "Man, this is gonna be so cool!"

Scarface and the Brutes, all of their faces half painted blue by Pablo…which really only looked dark grey in black and white, raised their kilts in defiance. "FREEDOM!!!" They rushed into the ensuing melee.

Bones crunched and metal flashed. Kneecaps went flying in the air and some very interesting cubist sculptures were made. And behind all the noisy, swirling mass of warring bodies, Harry stood waiting patiently.

Big D's eyes suddenly latched onto Harry.

Harry smiled, pulling something long, thin, and decidedly stick-like out of his pocket. "Hey Big D! _SAY HELLO TO MY 'LIL FRIEND!"_

In the background, Sirius cheered. "That's my boy! Make him an offer 'e can't refuse!"

With a burst of white light from Harry's wand, the whole scene vanished.

It looked as if Harry had squared with his inner hoodlum after all.

* * *

**Somewhere in England (well, probably)…**

"Albus, do you really think you're up to going out hunting Death Eaters. You're not exactly a spring chicken anymore!" Professor McGonagall clicked her tongue at Dumbledore disapprovingly.

"Nonsense, Minerva!" said Dumbledore flexing a flabby bicep. "I haven't had this smokin' hot body since high school!" Dumbledore then proceeded into a training montage, jumping rope, battering a punching bag, and doing jumping jacks. "I'm fit as a fiddle!"

McGonagall looked doubtful. "Well, if you think you're up to a fight."

Dumbledore blinked. "What, who's fighting? It was something about fiddles, wasn't it? Don't tell me, don't tell me!"

A scrap of parchement marked URGENT in bold letters popped up on the headmaster's desk in a poof of smoke.

"You've got mail! You have one new message." recited Fawkes dutifully.

Dumbledore perched a pair of half-moon spectacles on the tip of his nose, and carefully unfolded the note. "Ah yes, Harry again, the little rascal. Getting into gang fights…I see…a basic memory charm…uh huh…teleportation…well, Harry certainly has been busy."

McGonagall shook her head. "Oh dear. According to school rules, we should expel Harry. After all, we can't just have students running around loose doing magic as they choose!"

McGonagall and Dumbledore stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Moral fiber?"

"Moral fiber."

* * *

When the dust cleared, Harry and his hoodlums were all alone. Harry's spell had sent them clear into next week…no, really. Harry estimated that they were probably in next Thursday right now, but who really knew? They wouldn't be catching up to Harry for a while, and besides, Dudley would think twice about fighting Harry again.

Harry and his gang cheered loudly, jumping around and waving various weapons wildly. The cheering finally dwindled down to a few scattered shouts, and then silence.

Harry sniffed. "Er…so what do we do now?"

Melinda shrugged. "Do what ever you want, Scarface. But I think me and the gang are off to join the hobos. Can't go back to the school, and no one wants us here anyways. Besides, I hear tell that there's all the boots you can eat."

Harry nodded. "Good luck. And what about you, Mark."

Mark's eye squelched a little bit as it turned to face Harry. "I dunno. I might go to my Auntie's for the rest of the summer. It's nice up there."

Harry flinched as Mark's eye rotated. "You know, Mark, you could probably fix that lazy eye if you really wanted to."

"What lazy eye?" Mark blinked innocently. Crookedly, yes. But innocently.

"Uh…never mind."

Harry sniffled.

Mark frowned. "Is something wrong, Harry?"

"Oh, no. I'M JUST GONNA MISS YOU GUYS!"

Melinda's eyes narrowed. "Was that a sign of weakness that I just saw?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Uh oh."

"GET HIM!"

* * *

**_Oddly_**


	45. Ginny Rumbles With The Man

Yeah…so, yeah. We were really planning on doing three summer chapters…but I'm super lazy and it turned into one—er, one and a halfish. I actually had to go back and read EVERY single review just to convince myself that the readers still wanna chapter. Hehehe

BUT! The fifth movie was a gold mine, and JUST WAIT UNTIL WE HIT THE SEVENTH BOOK! MWHAHAHAHAHA!

WARNING! DH Spoilers. SHAME ON YOU, WHY ARE YOU READING THIS WHEN YOU HAVE THE REAL THING TO FINISH!?!?!?

That Loser

**Chapter 45: Ginny Rumbles With The Man**

The sound of bowling pins rattling to the ground strangely sounded like death to Lucy, as she made her way to the town's local Bowling League.

"_Edmund…"_

Her eventful trip to Jane's sister's house hadn't given her much to go on, but she did remember one thing: that Jane and this…Edmund were married and active in the Bowling League.

And Lucy knew, even though her deathly fear of that Bowling Shoe-Smell hissed at her _NOOO…_, that she had to go where her hunches took her; and right now it was leading her into the smoky den of this faded sport.

It had taken several days of undercover bowling work too secure herself an alibi as a 'regular'. And today was the day that her careful planning would all come together. Because after vigilantly combing the old records from years past in the storage closet (the adventure in which she seduced the pimply part-time worker and hog-tied him to the urinal in the men's room to steal the key to said closet was another story), she had identified some the original remaining teammates.

And so when the three wizened old ladies had cautiously sat down at the same lane they always sat at on the same day of the week they always came on, Lucy tried to act surprised and asked maybe, that perhaps she could join them?

Oh so what, that Lucy had to roll gutter balls all day long, that she had to nod and smile through five generations of tabby cat pictures, that she had to dive for her inhaler every time someone put on or took off their shoes, and that she was now filled with so much hard candy that she could now open her own Candy Store?

"You're just the sweetest little thing. You know my granddaughter could learn a thing or too from your attitude."

Lucy smiled, consenting to another cheek-pinch.

"Oh Gladys!" A fellow permed blue-haired woman sat down next to the two. "Isn't she the cutest thing you ever did see? The boys must be crawling over you, darling! Got a beau?"

Lucy sighed happily, giggling. "Oh no, Mrs. McClure. You're embarrassing me."

Gladys had gotten up for her turn. And the third member had seated. "Oh my!" she exclaimed, fanning herself, and smiling over at Lucy. "I don't think I've had this much fun since our whole League was together. You remind me so much of my old friend, Jane."

Lucy felt her breath pause. She unconscious edged closer to the old woman. "Ahh…Really?" she croaked. "I'd like to meet this Jane then."

"Oh, honey." Gladys had returned; Lucy knew she was up, but couldn't move from her seat. "Poor Jane dear died years and years ago."

Lucy shakily exhaled. "Oh, that's too bad…umm…"

Alice McClure smirked, laying a knurled hand on her knee. "Quite the scandal, dear. Wouldn't want to bother you with all those messy details…"

The three women exchanged stifled looks, trying to hide their grins.

"Oh I don't want to pry…"

"Nonsense!" The third laughed. "Jane's beloved husband Edmund—always knew he was a scoundrel—had an _affair_, and Jane killed herself!"

"_EDMUND…" _

"Oh, Mary!" Gladys smiled, scalding her.

"Hush…" Alice, waved her hands up at their twittering giggles. "Now let us tell you _all_ the details…"

Lucy smiled, settling back in her seat, the game forgotten; the falling pins echoing dully around her.

_Success. _

_

* * *

_

Molly Weasley was eyeing the surrounding buildings of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with motherly disapproval. "I don't like it."

Hermione huffed, setting down two loaded Hogwarts trunks that she had dead lifted. Ron smiled innocently over at her. "Thanks a million Herm. My arms always get all loosey goosey when I try caring my own weight." He sniffed suddenly, his eyes tearing up. "Loosey goosey…" he whispered forlornly. "EVERYTHING REMINDS ME OF ROBERT!"

Hermione sneered, slamming the lid of her own trunk back down after it had popped back open from one of her many books; the cover of _Romantic Tensions_ quickly sliding back out of sight. "No problem _Ronald_."

Back over by Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George had a tight hold of Ginny between them. "I don't know…" Fred shrugged, looking up at the house they would be living in for the remainder of the summer. "What are we here for again?" George gagged once as Ginny's wondering hands poked inside his mouth, he spit out her fingers as their sister made a disgusted noise underneath her heavily paper bagged head. "Who's supposed to be meeting us?"

Hermione snorted in the background, then groaned and placed a hand over her quickly developing hernia. "Grimmauld…Grim…Big Black Dog…Black…_I ask you_…"

Ron rocked back and forth in the fetal position. "Everything I touch _dies_…"

Mrs. Weasleys and the boys took a step back, dragging Ginny with them. Molly gave the building in front of them one more furtive glance. "You'll have to ask your father about the details when he arrives. Now come on." She slipped a ripped piece of parchment hastily back into her pocket. Fragments of the scrawled message reflecting in the dimly lit streetlights; the travelers hurried towards the door, escaping the night.

_**The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found… **_

* * *

Harry Potter was having a problem. Harry Potter actually always had problems, and worries, and nightmares, and mild acne; but this problem was the one he was having now. 

The problem was that there appeared to be no news about anything that had happened last June at _all_. That included Voldemort and the deer jerky. Why all, if any, of his news consisted of was dodgy letters from Hermione, Ron, and Sirius that didn't tell him a _thing_ about what was going on in the wizarding world!

_Harry,_

_Hermione and the family have all decided to spend the rest of the summer at Sirius's old family house. We're doing this because that's where the secret Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement is located. They call themselves the Order of the Phoenix, and here's a list of the members and their house addresses…_

Yeah. Ron was the least helpful of course. WHY DID THEY ALWAYS KEEP HIM IN THE DARK?

…_anyways, the feeling of the public at large is not a good one. The Ministry has decided to move against you and discredit everything you and Dumbledore have testified to last June. You can see this if you decide to actually read the _Daily Prophet_, and not just look at the pictures. We'll be seeing you in exactly two weeks at 9:30 PM, where the best members of the Order will pick you up._

_Yeah. Later, _

_Ron_

Then Ron had written Harry's name on the outside of the letter in big block print. It flashed neon green every ten seconds too. WHY WAS HE SO ELUSIVE?! The other's letters weren't even worth mentioning. Why was it that no one confided in him? He was the one who saw Voldemort return! He was the one who all this was centered on!

Well that was just fine. He decided that summer—after a strange occurrence with the neighborhood boys—that he would spend it in search for news…because no one really helped him that much anyways.

* * *

Harry poked his head out from inside the trashcan he was sitting in. He glared at the passer-byers, a comical banana peel sitting onto of his head at a jaunty angle. _Deer jerky… _

You see, Harry (after mysteriously waking up one morning with a size 13 stiletto embedded three inches into his skull and his body haphazardly tossed into a fish aquarium), after those dismal letters from his so-called _FRIENDS,_ had been searching incessantly for any scrap of information he could find. First of course he tried his own house, but then came the screaming and the swinging of the frying pan…and such; so he moved on to explore the neighbors' trash for news.

While his search had turned up some…_cough_…interesting memorabilia of his darling neighbors, after a couple '_I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER'_ notes and some lawsuits, Harry had decided not to get_ too_ carried away, and to move on to the wider public.

Diving in dumpsters led to bigger and better things; mainly the city dump. Here, Harry thought, his chest swelling with hope, here, for sure, was some answers…

* * *

"I wouldn't eat that if I was you." 

Harry jumped straight into the air, a rotting chicken leg flying from his hands. He turned angrily to the direction of the noise.

There standing before him was little Mark Evans, his lazy eye staring at the chicken bone twenty feet in the opposite direction.

"Mark!" Harry hissed, licking his fingers. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to your Auntie's!"

Mark's eye rolled around sporadically in the top of his head, then quickly came into focus and landed on Harry. Mark narrowed his eyes, his full gaze for once on Potter. "I have no Auntie." he growled, his voice octaves lower.

Harry blinked.

Mark's eye returned to its independent movement. "MWAHAHAHAHA!" he cackled, swinging a bloody knife around him. "WAHAHAHA!" He stopped. Threw the knife behind him, then smiled up at Harry. "So what are we looking for, _FRIEND?_"

"Oh. Uh…nothing particular…"

Mark nodded sagely. "I know just what you mean." He opened his arms wide. "THE DUMP IS A PLACE OF BEAUTY TO BE MARVELED AT!" he bellowed.

A cat rushed past and threw-up on his shoes.

He sighed contently, then grabbed Harry's elbow and lead him deeper into the maze of filth.

"I know the allures that the dump can tempt us with…" Mark told him as they passed an old broken down car, in which the metal frame remained and the body sat atop cinderblocks. "…we all get lonely at times…and then fate takes us to a magical realm of peace and pieces."

"MARK!? IS THAT YOU!?"

Mark stiffened, then laughed feebly as four unknown hobos wondered into their paths. "H-hi…who are you?"

"What are you talking about, Mark?" an old man with potato chip clips pinned on each ear questioned him. "We're your friends!"

"HARRY'S MY FRIEND!" Mark screamed, hugging Harry and pulling him backwards, away from the group. "We'll always be friends! Forever and ever!"

"Oh? So now we're not good enough for you?" a crazy lady in a flour sack dress declared. "Where was your new friend when people were picking on you, HUH? Where was he when we rushed them boys and gave them tetanus and rabies in revenge? HUH?"

Harry looked down at the quivering form hugging him tightly. "People made fun of you? For what?"

Mark rolled one eye, the other was hopping up and down. "Oh, you know…it's so obvious…people always judge me about my problem the moment they see me…"

"Ahhh…" Harry sighed. "You're eye."

Mark glared, suddenly pushing him away. "Eye? Eye! There's nothing wrong with my eyes! You should talk, Four-eyes! I have delicate wrists, OKAY? That's what they make fun of me for." His expression abruptly softened. "Oh Harry…our first fight! I think you have lovely duct-taped glasses that accent your blue—green, no brow- red…black eyes." He reached out towards the wizard. "Come to me, _FRIEND_!"

Harry slapped a hand to the younger boy's face, holding him back at arm's length. "Yeah. That's enough."

"Mhhmmm!" Mark struggled against Harry, his words muffled. "Don't. Bottle. Up. Your. Feelings!"

The hobos glared at this display. "You think that just because your new friend has underwear, that you're suddenly better than us? Decided that all those boots you knew we had could now belong to you? WELL THE PREIOUSES STAY WITH THE CLAN!" the third hobo with pink socks and a detached shirt collar around his neck screamed, red-faced.

Mark surfaced from Harry's grasp. He shrugged, running a tongue across his teeth and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay. You caught me. Fine, so I always secretly coveted the Clan's wealth. BUT I'M ABOVE YOU! THE BOOTS BELONG TO ME!"

Three of the hobos gasped in shock, the fourth glared stoically back at the little boy.

"The Boot King has entrusted us with his holy treasures!" the female screeched. "And to think that we were this close to knighting you and inducting you into the Clan!"

"Hersey!" The potato clip hobo hissed.

"Wait a second!" Harry held up his hands to halt the madness. "You know the Boot King?"

The fourth hobo stepped forward. "Of course I know the Boot King! Tis I who established the first contact as there on that glorious day when he pulled Excalibur from the mud!"

Harry eyed him critically for a moment. "Oh yeah. You've that hobo Ron wrestled that manky boot portkey from for the World Cup." Harry unexpectedly paused, his eyes tearing up. "P-p-port…key." He sniffed. "C-cedric…WHY? YOU SAT THERE THE WHOLE TIME AND DID NOTHING! NOW VOLDEMORT IS LESS UGLY THAN A DEAD BALD BABY SQUIRREL!"

* * *

Voldemort propped himself up onto his elbows. He glared at the crashing waves of the low tide. 

"HEADS UP!" A Death Eater in a midnight black Speedo with the Dark Mark embroidered on his right butt cheek leaped over Voldemort's still body, kicking sand up on top of him.

"HEY!" The Dark Lord screamed menacingly. "You're disrupting my tan! And you got sand all over my blanket!"

The lackey cowered, discovering who he had disturbed. "I-I-was just going to go get the shuttlecock…" he pointed at the bad mitten object ten feet away, and which was covered in deathly looking spikes. Well. It _was_ Death Eater bad mitten.

Voldemort snarled. "As punishment you must receive for me a potato salad sandwich, and a glass of lemonade!" Voldemort then laid back down, shifting to get comfortable again.

The Death Eater began to slink away, lucky to catch a break.

"OH!" Lord Voldemort raised his head again. "And not the hard stuff! And come rub lotion on my back!"

The Dark Lord relaxed, the sounds of merry laughter and frolicking on the company outing in progress. He eyed a scuttling crab thoughtfully. _"Pooter…"_

* * *

The hobo eyed the mad Potter boy. "Are you insulting THE MAGNIFICENT ONE?" 

Harry sneered. "Magnificent! He can't even send proper letters!"

The hobo reached inside his tattered shirt and extracted several dirtied envelops. "He up-dates his faithful just fine." He replied coldly.

"WHAT!?" Harry hastily ripped a letter out from the man's grasp. "_Dear lowly servant, I will not be able to write much this summer as I will be traveling with my friends to a new place. Write to you when school starts…Ron_." He trailed off, looking up hurt from this realization. He had learned more about what was going on in the Wizarding World in this one letter compared to _weeks_ of scouring the Earth for information!

He threw the letter into the dirt, a rage building up inside his chest.

"Harry?" Mark had disappeared shortly during the conversation, and now returned, several boot-like lumps under his shirt. "Harry? My friend? Are you okay?"

Harry growled, flexing his fingers and curling them into fists.

"My very special _friend_?"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, DELICATE WRIST BOY!" Harry shoved the kid to the ground and angry-walked out of the dump.

Mark Evans sniffed, watching Harry stalk off with one eye and the other staring at a stray dog twenty feet in the opposite direction. "Caps-Lock…" he pondered. "I don't think I like that. Perhaps I will go to my Aunties…"

The other hobos eyed his shirt suspiciously.

Evans quickly scrambled to his feet. "I was born like this!" he screamed, then paused. "And I'm not related to Lily Evans!" Then he ran off before the guard rats of the treasure cove came after him.

* * *

Her mother didn't like Sirius Black at all, Ginny could tell. 

The battles seemed to basically consist of 'Who Loved Harry More'. With her mother frantically baking hundreds of pies—to be ready when Harry came—and Sirius running around screaming that 'He was the Godfather!'

Ginny knew that deep down inside her mother really cared just as much for her family as she displayed for Harry. It was a constant struggle though, to insist it was the bipolar disorder that was the sole cause.

Because Ginny still burned with a fiery rage to destroy everything Harry held near and dear. And even if she had to snap Ron's neck in the middle of the night; well, it was something she would have to live with. She was a sister after all—she had back up plans like these thought up years ago.

Harry's rejection that last Valentine's Day had freed her from her delusions; it was like being slapped in the face with a mop. Her whole life plan had changed then. Away with the collectable Harry dolls, away with the perfume sprayed love letter stationary, away with the lipstick and blush and brushes; out with the high heels and burn the bras! Ginny now saw them as they really were! Man's attempts at dominating the female sex! Their repressive footwear that caused twisted backs and lipstick that contained lead! Man had always oppressed them, and now—NOW Ginny saw the truth.

Those chauvinistic bastards took everything for granted! Ginny had lost things, oh yes, things like razors, romantic books—that Jane Austen bitch was working for the man, she saw that now—, tweezers, and shampoo; but she had gained _so_ much more in their place: books about Guerilla Tactics and how to kill a man with a thumbscrew, big baggy shirts about Africa, and sensible shoes.

Hermione had been faintly interested in what she had to say, but Ginny couldn't convince her that their own gender needed work first off before they could move on to house elves. Ron was strangely supportive and helped make **DOWN WITH THE OPPRESSIVE DOGS **picket signs. Why even when her mother had been sedated long enough for one of Ginny's speeches she had nodded in encouragement! Although Molly Weasley was settling an awful example in being subjected to the role of a common housewife…but alas! She really felt that she was now living her life pro-woman, even if she was locked up in Grimmauld Place all summer. Why, the other day when Sirius had winked at her she leaped onto his back and stabbed him in the eye with a fork. She hadn't gotten in that much trouble for that because her mother didn't really like him much anyways; she just beat him over the head with a ladle when he complained. But now she was waiting. Waiting for Harry.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for Harry too.

"You think Harry got my last letter when I explained in detail about a secret weapon in the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione questioned him, spread out on top of a musty old armchair and reading an old novel pulled from some random shelf.

Ron mumbled from his position on the ground, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration as he wobbly finished the last of the letters on one of Ginny's new signs.

**MALE DOGS BURN IN A FRILLY PINK HELL**

Hermione turned a page, in the next room Sirius and Mrs. Weasley were boxing for the right to do Harry's laundry.

"JAMES IS MY RESPONSIBILITY!" _**SMASH.**_

"I'VE KNOWN HARRY FAR LONGER! AND THERE YOU GO AGAIN, CALLING HIM JAMES! THIS PROVES MY POINT!" _**POW.**_

"I WAS REFERRING TO HIS MIDDLE NAME! HIS MIDDLE NAME OF COURSE! DID YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT WAS?" _**BAM.**_

"I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HARRY!" _**THUD.**_

"I BROKE OUT OF AZKABAN FOR HARRY!" _**SWOOSH.**_

Hermione turned another page and sighed.

Ron sat down his paint brushes. "There!" he gestured grandly to the drying rallying point. "All finished!" He looked back once more at the sign and scratched his right ear. "I'm not quite sure what Ginny has against puppies, but I guess that I agree that they drool a lot and don't have very good hygiene."

Hermione looked up from her book; Ron scratched his right ear again with his foot and slurped noisily at the hanging saliva off his chin. The mold rippled. Hermione turned a page.

"They're dumb as rocks too."

Ron laughed loudly, his shrills raising to a tone unheard of to human ears. "You said it!" he gasped.

* * *

Harry found himself once again back at the Dursley's. He searched every trashcan he knew of on the way back, but still found nothing else out about what was really going on. He couldn't think of anymore possible places to look for news, he realized as he had passed the library, the radio station, the TV station, and the Newspaper Publishers. 

So there he was, sitting in one of his old Secret Under-The-Hydrangea-Bushes places, contemplating depression and anguish-y filled sobs—stifled in the dead of night—when he heard something glorious.

_**CRACK! **_

The sound of magic! Or a popcorn kernel!

Either way he was saved!

"MAAAAAAGGICCCCC!" Harry leaped from his spot under the window and straight into a parked car.

After he lay there for fifteen minutes, he slowly flipped onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees. He shook himself, fell down, then got back up again and paced in a couple hazy patterns. "Walk it off…walk it off…"

He stumbled round the corner of the next house and proceeded. "MAAAAAAGIC!"

Leaping into the middle of the street, he peered around suspiciously at the surrounding houses. He glared down their sidewalks. Harry knew magic was tricky. The only way he would be able to catch a magical thing or person was to use magic himself.

Harry sprinted back into the Dursley's house then ran back down the street into town, continuing his search of magic.

" INVISIBILITY!"

The neighbors peered out their windows at the strange Potter boy as he raced out of their addition with a giant ordinary tan trench coat thrown over his head, a pair of scruffy sneakers shuffling down the road.

* * *

There came a commotion from the upstairs bathroom. 

"HAVE A HAPPY PERIOD?"

The ceiling rumbled and Ron and Hermione ducked under their arms as pieces of the old chandelier rocked and broke apart.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

There came a pounding down the stairs and Ginny appeared mad-eyed and crazy, clutching an Always maxi-pad in her fist.

She advanced towards the first male she saw.

Ron began to scream.

"I'm bloated…puffy…" Ginny hissed coming ever closer. "…have a strange urge to eat salted chocolate…AND AM CRAMPING SO HARD I WANT TO REACH INSIDE MYSELF AND YANK OUT MY UTERUS. DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?"

Ron shook his head frantically, tears screaming down his face.

"DOES THIS LOOK LIKE SMILING, LAUGHING, HAPPINESS?" she shrieked, pointing at herself.

Hermione frowned now too, looking evilly over at Ron.

"I've jacked myself up on Motrin and Kahlua, and _JUST _convinced myself not to march down to the Ministry with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end you sexist PIGS in a blaze of glory—" Ginny continued. "—when I see _this_." She paused, her chest heaving up and down as she thrust the pad under her brother's nose, which read with a happy little message surrounded by peaceful little butterflies.

Ron was shaking now.

"Wouldn't it be better to say something more _pertinent, _like: 'Put Down the Hammer' or 'Cutting Off his Balls is Wrong'?"

Hermione nodded. "This is true."

"Only a MAN would be **wise** enough to even _consider _selling this to the female public!" Ginny screamed. "What kind of condescending bullshit is this!?"

Sirius now entered the room. "I thought I heard some noise—"

With a cry of rage Ginny grabbed a dagger from her army boot and flung it towards the new male. The blade dug into the wall with a dull _thud_ and remained there vibrating.

Sirius froze. Ron had stopped breathing.

Ginny growled, her legs spread and her should blades hunched. "Time. To. Buy. New. Brand." She stormed up the stairs after a final sneer.

No one moved.

Hermione then burst into tears and ran after her.

* * *

Harry had tackled a couple of birthday party Magicians at the local park and chased away the guests. 

He was now at the strange park that was located on the outskirts of town and surrounded by crop circles. He sat on one of the multiple empty swings and was licking the birthday cake from his fingers.

A woman had bodily tackled her two children from the merry-go-round and was now dragging them away from the playground. "What did I tell you about playing with _losers_?" She scalded.

Harry was all alone.

The empty swing beside Harry made an eerie swinging noise and a titter-totter tilted threateningly. The place looked pretty much haunted and in a need of sprinklers.

Harry was now considering the possibility of strapping a sprinkler to his forehead and making some extra money around the neighborhood when a group of people appeared.

Harry clutched tightly to the metal chains of the swing, looking small and rather silly.

The group of people was now closer and Harry saw that it was Dudley and his gang.

He sighed. "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in."

One of the unrecognizable members reached into his pocket, the fattest one, that must have been Dudley, slapped his hand away. "What did I tell you? Leave the gun. Take the cannoli." The lackey huffed angrily, stuffing some pasta into his mouth.

Dudley sneered, having pushed his way to the front of the group, and now turned towards Harry. "You think you're such a big man holding your stick. Without it you'd be nothing."

The fellow gang members now blinked waspishly, eyeing Dudley strangely. "You watch your cousin hold his stick?" one asked hesitantly.

"N-no!" Big D stuttered. "That's not what I meant!"

Harry grinned pumping his legs in the air as he swung up and down. "You scared of me, Dudley?"

Dudley's face began turning red. "You're not so brave in bed!"

The gang now had taken a noticeable step backwards from their leader. "Oh come on, Dudley!"

Dudley's face faded to a light purple color. "Harry's frightened of his pillows!" he was now screaming high-pitched. "That's what I meant! He's scared of his pillows!"

Harry blanched, coming to a sudden violent halt, kicking up dust. "THAT WAS OUR SECRET!"

"YES! YES!" Dudley was pointing frantically at his weird cousin. "Always moaning in his sleep and talking about Cedric and…" he paused briefly. "…a tattooed madman…" He gathered himself up again. "AH-HA! Who's Cedric, Harry? Huh? Your boyfriend!?" The other gang members dutifully laughed.

Harry shuddered, either imagining the Graveyard, or thinking again about sprinklers.

"Moaning in his sleep all night long! Calling for his Mum and Dad!" Big D smirked. "Where is your Mum, Potter? Is she dead?"

Silence.

A leather clad hoodlum turned to the fat boy. "That was a little harsh."

The muggy day suddenly was covered in gray shadows as the clouds drifted over ahead and the wind began to blow, lightening crackling from purple-bruised nimbuses.

The gang shrank back again. "POTTER'S MUM IS GOING TO SMITE US!"

Dudley shivered, quicksilver raindrops stinging their skin. "W-w-what did you do?"

Harry sniffed, turning away. "I wasn't holding my stick."

When the thunder shook the crop circles out and lightening struck the monkey bars, the boys began to run.

"GAHHHH!" Dudley surprisingly kept up with Harry as they sprinted back towards town, which was an awfully long ways away. Harry cursed who ever thought of building a play ground so far out of the city.

The cousins had become separated from the other boys as they galloped into a graffiti-ed tunnel and began to slow down.

Harry turned to look at Dudley. "I didn't know you were so deathly afraid of rain."

Dudley sneered, his face contorted in the flickering lights. "You followed."

The walked quietly on, eyeing their surroundings. "Where are we?" Big D voiced. "The Bat Cave?"

"I have a theory." Harry answered him. "I think that maybe Privet Drive is becoming like Hogwarts, as in the surroundings change every year."

They were perhaps finally on their way to true cousin bonding when Harry felt that all-familiar feeling of dread and fear, his lungs burning as he tried gulping down the icy cold air. No, Harry hadn't forgotten to zip his fly. It was dementors!

They swooped in, their black cloaks ripping and skeleton frames stretching out towards the humans. Harry whole-heartedly agreed that they looked a lot creepier with the updated special-effects.

Dudley was screaming, pinned down by what he viewed as an unseen force. The other dementor had grabbed a hold of Harry's throat, hoisting him into the air, its rattling breath sucking away his thoughts…

But then Harry came up with a plan. Even though he had seen the true face of a dementor in his third year, he still decided to, instead of using his wand for the Patronus Charm, to poke the dementor in the eye, where there was indeed, no eye. And even though it would most likely feel like being poked in the elbow or something, the dementor still let go and Harry fell to the floor with a gasp; scurrying away from the creature.

He turned and eyed his cousin, considering the options. But then sighed, knowing the soul-less body would be too heavy to carry to the dump or some place. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He thought urgently of his mop collection.

In a blaze of silver-white light a stag erupted from Harry's wand, charging the dark creatures and sending them back to where they had come.

Harry fell back to the ground, shakily tucking his wand back into the pocket of his jeans when he heard something else…

_Squeaky….squeakysqueakysqueaky… _

His eyes grew large. Was it another couple dementors, come to finish them off? No. Dementors didn't make a sound until their rattling breath was inches from your face…

_Sqqqqqquuuuueaky…Sqqquuuuuueaky…_

Dudley was moaning on the ground, several feet away from him, would he be strong enough to fight this new evil creature and save Dudley also?

_SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky_

Harry screamed.

Mrs. Figg appeared around the corner, dragging a small suitcase on wheels.

She stopped, observing the scene with no reaction. "You shouldn't put your wand away Harry."

Harry shut his mouth, then scrambled over to Dudley, pulling him to his feet. "Mrs. Figg…?"

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry considered this. "Well, it does burn when I pee."

Mrs. Figg continued on out of the tunnel, Harry hurried after her, his cousin probably now mentally screwed.

"Dumbledore's going to be so upset when he finds out about this…" Mrs. Figg carried on, talking to herself.

"You know Dumbledore?"

"Of course I know Dumbledore. Doing him a favor, in fact, watching you, trying to keep you out of trouble. He's not going to like this…"

Harry stopped, now in front of his Aunt and Uncle's driveway. "Wait. You're the person that Albus Dumbledore has decided is the best option to protect me and keep me alive from Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself?"

Mrs. Figg gave him a faint smile, then gave him a violent shove, sending him toppling into the gravel. "Go home Harry."

_Squeaky…Squeaky…Squeaky…_

* * *

Dumbledore paused in the motion of rubbing sunscreen on his long broken nose. 

He had taken a vacation and was lying on a beach in a bright lime green folding chair. It was his neighbors on the sand that were bothering him. He knew that the ocean often coaxed great excitement from people, but he thought the tortured screams and cries of "POOTER!" were a little much.

He sighed, adjusted his big colorful propeller hat, gave it a twirl, and went back trying to ignore them.

But their impromptu beach volleyball game was just too much. Sighing, Dumbledore drew out his long wand; it was old. You know. Er…elder like. He gave it a jerk and the volleyball popped, receiving several cries of outrage.

Dumbledore snickered, turning back to sunbathing. "For the Greater Good…"

* * *

Harry stumbled into the house, dragging Dudley with him. 

This resulted in several things.

Well, one really: outrage.

His Uncle gagged on the spoon he was slurping yogurt from. His Aunt raced towards her son—paused to stand over a vent, cross her legs and giggle as her dress fluttered up—and pulled him into her arms; shimmying slightly more than normal in her scantily clad yellow dress.

"WHAT'S HAPPENED TO HIM!" Vernon cried. An owl soared through the open window and clipped him in the back of the head, dropping a letter.

Harry waved him off, mumbling about dementors, as he reached and picked up the letter, it held one word: **YOU**

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF, BOY!" his Uncle began, then was side-swiped by another owl as it soared through the house; it dropped another letter. This, too, contained one word: **ARE**

"Uh…yeah…soul-suckers and such…" Harry flipped the note over, nothing was on the back. Hmmm…how odd.

Petunia gasped. "Vernon! Vernon! I think I've heard of them! They guard _their_ prisons! They suck the happiness right out of people!" she sobbed, pushing her cleavage up a bit more.

Another owl zoomed through the room and disappeared with a screech. Another word: **EXPELLED.**

Harry frowned. "WHAT?"

Vernon jumped to his feet. "That's it! I've had enough of this _strangeness_." He hissed, a fourth owl running into him, then dropping another letter: **—Ministry**

"You are threatening our son and our way of life!" he continued, his voice rising. "I told Petunia that I wouldn't deal with this nonsense when we took you in! And do you see how you've repaid us? GOING OFF TO SOME SCHOOL WITH AN OLD FOOL TEACHING YOU TO PULL RABBITS OUT OF HATS!"

"We actually haven't learned that one yet." Harry spoke up.

There came the sound of ominous pounding, then the front door was ripped off it's hinges as Hagrid randomly appeared inside their house.

"NEVER INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" he thundered, cursing the coffee table and turning an armchair into a turtle. He continued his frenzied rush and busted through the opposite wall, disappearing just as quickly as he had come.

"Uhhh…"

"NO MORE!" Vernon sputtered, yanking drywall out of his hair.

Petunia sniffed, leaning down seductively and slowly picking up the turtle and flipping it over on its back, its little legs wriggling in the air. _"What would the queen say?"_

"I think a dementor visit might have cheered her up a bit." Harry concluded.

Three owls glided out of the chimney and dropped letters into Harry's lap; then two of them clipped his Uncle on the side of the head on their way out the open window. The third went for his eyes.

"ARRGGGHHHHHH!!!"

Harry quickly opened the mail. "_James, stop doing thoughtless acts.—Sirius_" Harry thought this why quite rich coming from the man who licked his own butt.

"_Don't let the Ministry have your wand!—Mr. Weasley_"

Harry sighed, getting to his feet. It looked like he was on the lam again. He vaguely remembered his first attempt to run away back in his third year. It had involved a lot of hobos and a dusty train ride, he was determined that his time he would go more prepared.

Harry crossed over the living room and flung open the closet door, grabbing his uncle's old rain boots.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH! OUT! GET OUT!" His uncle flung the owl from his face and continued on his rant.

"Where you going Harry?" his Aunt taunted, applying another layer of lipstick and pulling her dress front down lower. "Some place nice?" she sneered. "Some place _exotic_?"

Harry stomped towards the door.

"HUH? HARRY? HUH!"

An indescribable force was pressing against Harry's chest. He felt mad and pubescent. "YEAH?" he screeched. "WELL THERE'S SOMETHING I'VE BEEN MEANING TO TELL YOU ALL SINCE THE MOMENT I REALIZED DRINKING FROM THE TOILET WASN'T WHAT NORMAL KIDS DID WHEN THEY WERE THIRSTY."

He had considered at least taking his favorite mop with him, but it was now too late for Teddy.

"YOU ARE ALL MEAN AND NASTY, I'D RATHER BREAK INTO A GRINGOTTS HIGH-SECURITY VAULT WITH A BLIND DRAGON AND _RON_ THAN STAY HERE ANOTHER MINUTE." He turned to his Aunt. "AND YOUR MEATLOAF TASTE LIKE OLD PEOPLE."

He ripped open the door, then noticing he forgot to open the last letter, awkwardly paused and read it. "_Harry, don't leave your Aunt and Uncle's house! –Lupin_"

…

"CRACKERJACKS."

Harry turned around. His relatives glared at him, white rage scrawled across the creases in their brows. Harry smiled weakly.

"I'M GOING TO BED NOW." He moved towards the staircase.

"Oh no you don't!" Uncle Vernon stood to his feet. "I told you to leave!"

Another owl dropped into the house. His Uncle screamed. Harry reached up for the letter but it swerved and flew towards his Aunt, dropping the mail into her plunging neckline and then flew away, busting through the only closed window in the house.

The red letter began to hiss and steam, Aunt Petunia cowered in her seat, tossing it away from her; it exploded in midair.

"_**REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA." **_

Everyone quieted. Vernon turned towards his wife. "Wha—?"

But Petunia only frowned, confused.

The same owl burst through the closed window again.

"_**MY LAST LETTER." **_

She brought a hand up to her chin, pondering this.

The owl appeared once more.

"_**THE ONE WHEN YOU WERE A KID. YOU KNOW. YES?"**_

Petunia gasped, so startled that she jumped from her seat, a look of horrible terror on her face.

A fourth time the owl came.

"_**THIS IS DUMBLEDORE, BY THE WAY."**_

Petunia sighed heavily, settling down. After a couple minutes of wheezing with her hands on her knees, she turned stiffly to look at Harry. "You'll have to stay then."

Harry looked about the room quickly, then loped to the stairs.

"WAIT!" Vernon now stood up too. "What was that—? He has to stay—"

Petunia turned uninterested, now moving towards the kitchen. She waved him off.

"B-but…" he stuttered, watching his wife disappear into the next room. He collected his thoughts. "You! Boy! Thank your Aunt!"

Harry paused on the fifth step. "THANK YOU AUNT PETUNIA."

"What kind of tone is that!" his uncle's face was fading back to a violent violet color.

Harry moved his mouth up and down wordlessly. "I THINK IT'S STUCK."

Thankfully an owl flew into the house at that very moment and began to viciously attack his uncle's face.

Harry ran upstairs.

* * *

"UH! I AM MAD! RAH! RAH! SO ANGRY AND NO ONE CARES! ARRRRGGGGH!" 

Harry kicked his lamp, then cried, and gave it a hug. "YOU'RE MY ONLY FRIEND NOW LAMP-LIGHT, DON'T EVER APPEAR TO STOP LIKING ME AFTER A TRAMATIC EXPERIENCE AND A SUMMER OF SEPERATION, OKAY?"

Harry had been locked up in his room for five days now. After the first day of solitude, four owls had appeared by his window with birthday presents. It was all food, and Harry had thrown it all into the trashcan.

On the third day he become immune to the smell his 'bathroom' hastily chosen in his closet.

On the fourth day he became unsound and whittled an owl out of one of his bedposts and named it Hedwig, trying to convince it to send messages to his friends.

On the fifth day his Aunt found him digging through his rotting trash that hadn't been taken out in five years, and eating from it, licking the inside rim.

"What is going on here?!" his Aunt gagged, stepping back into the hallway, holding her nose.

Harry squinted at her from his crouched position on top of the dresser. He was clothed only in a homemade-loincloth, his hair messier than usual, and wild tribal patterns splattering the walls and his chest. He tilted his head, eyeing something in the corner of the room: a sharpened spike in which a soccer ball was rammed through, his glasses perched on the checkered ball like a decapitated head.

"THE LORD OF THE FLIES SAYS I MUST NOT TALK TO YOU."

His Aunt was dry heaving in the doorway. "I-I-I've just come to tell you that the family is going out tonight for dinner, so don't expect us back anytime soon. I'm locking you in again." She stared at him momentarily, then seemed to make up her mind. "You know we installed an add-on bathroom while you were away." Then slamming the door, she was gone.

Harry jumped down from a top his dresser, then knuckled his way across the room.

"I HAD WONDERED WHAT THAT EXTRA DOOR WAS FOR."

* * *

_**Siriusly **_


	46. Scarred For Life

Okay, yes, we're back for good. The school year is starting up (curses), so we should be putting out a chapter or two per month again. And there was much rejoicing!

That Loser

**Chapter 46: Scarred For Life**

It was twelve o' clock and Harry was in one of his Apathetic Phases. This was a general improvement, because his other phases included Yelling, Crying In The Corner, Disgruntled Muttering, Angsting, and Throwing Stuff At Other Stuff. At the moment, Harry was laying on his bed, staring at shadows thrown on the ceiling by the dim glow of his Chuddley Cannons nightlight.

"Hedwig, I'm glad that your spirit has traveled back from beyond the Unspeakable Nether Regions of the Unknown to inhabit my whittled owl. It's nice to have some normalcy again. You know, talking and everything. It helps me keep my sanity."

Harry's neck twitched almost imperceptibly. "I only wish my FRIENDS cared so much! Oh yeah, MY FRIENDS THAT NEVER EVEN TALKED TO ME THE WHOLE SUMMER!"

The room echoed with Harry's crazed shouts.

"AND DON'T YOU DARE STICK UP FOR THEM! THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT ME! NO ONE CARES!" Harry sniffled. "And I feel very empty inside. Would you hold me?"

Silence.

"Oh, I'm sorry Hedwig. I forgot that you're made of wood now. How very insensitive of me."

Sighing, Harry got up from his bed and proceeded to pound his head against the wall.

"Angst. Angst. Angst." _Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _

**BOOM!**

Harry's head snapped up. Wow! Onomatopoeia! It was coming from downstairs.

**BOOM!**

"Burglars!" Harry gasped. "My heroic nature tells me to go stop them, but I really just want to stay here, stare at stuff, and angst some more. Hmm…what do you think, Hedwig?"

Silence.

"Right! NEVER FEAR GENTLE RESIDENTS OF PRIVET DRIVE, LITTLE WHINGING, SURREY! IT IS I, HARRY POTTER, REPELLER OF DEMENTORS…AND GIRLS…AND I'VE COME TO SAVE THE DAY!"

Tying on his red cape, Harry quickly picked the lock on his bedroom door MacGyver style with a hairpin and a piece of twine, and stole quietly down the hallway. On the floor below, there seemed to be someone rustling about. The crypt-like silence of the deserted house was occasionally punctured by the staccato ping of metal on metal, or a strange scraping sound. As Harry neared the kitchen, the sounds grew louder. He blew out his cheeks, breathing deeply. It was now or never. Cautiously, Harry lifted an ornamental porcelain pig from a nearby end table over his head in one hand, his wand in the other.

"On the count of three," he whispered to himself. "One…two…four…fi—oh wait."

Harry grimaced. This wasn't fair! It wasn't his fault that no one had taken the time to teach him to count properly. Harry was suddenly depressed. No one cared. After he'd scared off these burglars with his mad kung fu skills, he'd go angst himself into unconsciousness again. That always made him feel better. Felt quite tingly, actually. "Okay, shake it off, shake it off. You can do this. Ready? One…two…THREE! ARRRRGGGGGGHH!!!"

Harry jumped into the next room, brandishing his wand and a fearsome two ounces of solid, handpainted, barnyard fury. "NOBODY MOVE, I'VE GOT A LOADED PIG HERE, AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"

"Harry? Harry Potter, is that you?" An unfamiliar woman with short, spiky purple hair winked at him. "Wotcher, Harry?"

Harry blinked. "UH…BEWARE?"

"Look everybody, it's Harry Potter!"

A large number of people surged from the kitchen to crowd around him.

"Harry Potter, can't tell you what a pleasure it is!"

"My goodness, your eyes! You have your mother's eyes!"

"IN MY POCKET," Harry nodded, "WANNA SEE?"

"Harry, are you all right?" said a familiar voice.

"PROFESSOR LUPIN!" said Harry. "AM I SURE GLAD TO SEE A FAMILIAR FACE! WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING HERE?"

Lupin frowned. "Harry, why are you shouting?"

Harry shrugged. "STUCK IN CAPS LOCK AGAIN."

Lupin chuckled. "Ah yes, the awkward days of caps lock. I remember when I was a young wolf…man…wolfman…"

"Remus, don't talk to him! It might not be Harry!" said another familiar face.

"PROFESSOR MOODY!"

Lupin sighed. "You really are paranoid, you know that, right? Okay Harry, answer me this question."

"ALL RIGHT BUT I'VE GO…ot. Oh, that's better. I've got to warn you, though. I'm a horrible test taker."

"Yes, thank you Harry. I seem to remember that small detail. By the way, you do know that Merlin's Fourth Magical Law is not 'Beans are the magical fruit.'"

"I knew that!" said Harry defensively, "I just got a little nervous, that's all!"

Lupin smiled encouragingly. "Of course you did. Now, this question is easy: what form does your Patronus take?"

Harry started to sweat. "Er…a…stag?"

Lupin beamed. "See, Alastor, I told you it was Harry."

Professor Moody rolled his eyes. "All right. Either it really is Potter, or it's a very good Inferius." Moody eyed Harry—wild haired, war painted chest, holding a porcelain pig. "Though the last could actually be an improvement."

"Oh, it's so nice to have people around again!" Harry sighed happily, lowering his wand and starting to stuff it in his back jeans pocket.

"Potter! Don't put your wand there! Better wizards than you have lost a buttock that way," growled Moody.

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Really? Who do you know that's lost a buttock?"

Moody blushed. "Er…s' confidential…wouldn't want to gossip…"

Tonks gasped delightedly. "Moody! You said that happened in 'Nam!"

Moody's mismatched eyes flickered shiftily. "What happens in 'Nam stays in 'Nam."

"Friendly fire, indeed," said Lupin softly.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

"Nothing."

Moody glared. "We should be going. The guard is expecting us in…"

"Nonsense! Let's take at least fifteen minutes and introduce everyone!" said Lupin cheerfully. "This is Nymphadora."

The woman with the violet hair stamped her foot. "It's Tonks! How many times do I have to tell you, Remus! It's Tonks, and I love you with an unfailing love that burns as bright as one thousand splendid suns! How many times must I tell you?!" Tonks blinked, her violet hair changing to the color of scarlet embarrassment. "Oh…did I say that all out loud?"

Lupin blinked. "Aaaand…this is Kingsley Shacklebolt."

The only black wizard of the bunch nodded regally. "See, who said Harry Potter doesn't have diversity? Me and Dean, yeah, we're in this together. And Boy Wizard #54 that shouts 'Look! An owl!'…"

Harry nodded, confused. "Hello?"

"And here's Delphus Diggle."

"We've met before!"

Harry gulped. They had? "Sure! In that one place, that one time! You know, with that one thing! Right?"

Diggle started to swoon. "He _remembered_!"

Lupin nodded. "Lovely, lovely. And…er…" he waved his hand vaguely over the huge crowd of wizards and witches crowing in the kitchen, their eager faces gleaming at Harry expectantly. "…the rest. I think it's about time to go now. Moody?"

The scarred wizard grumbled. "Took you long enough. All right, then. Come here Potter, I'm going to Disillusion you."

"Oh, no thank you. The cold, cruel world has already disillusioned me, pulled the wool from my eyes!" Harry struck a dramatic pose, "Now I see—"

"Save for your memoirs, Potter," said Moody. "Here, hold still. This will camouflage you from the enemy!"

Moody tapped his wand lightly on top of Harry's head. From the point where Moody's wand struck, Harry felt the most odd, cold, trickling sensation, as if someone had just cracked an egg on his head. Looking down at his hands, Harry suddenly gasped.

"Er…not that it isn't a lovely color and all…but is turning me neon yellow really going to help?"

"The ways of magical protection are very mysterious, Harry," said Lupin seriously. "It's best to not question."

Harry frowned in concentration. "But I'm practically glowing, here—"

The rest of the wizards were mounting their brooms, preparing to take off.

"Come along, Harry! Don't dawdle about!"

Harry dazedly got onto his broom, hauling his trunk behind him. "Okay…but I'm yellow…?"

* * *

Harry finally pulled his broom to a halt in front of a group of apartments. Following Moody, Harry walked up to the fence.

Was he supposed to be seeing something? Harry looked around. It was basically your average brownstone; tall, dark, slightly dingy but not offensively so, giving off the smells of bacon and sweat. Looked pretty ordinary to him.

Moody looked at Harry anxiously.

Harry cleared his throat. "Um…it's very nice?"

"Quickly Potter, read and memorize!" Moody thrust a piece of paper under Harry's nose.

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Just as Harry's eyes had passed over the last line, Moody incinerated the piece of paper with a giant fireball. "Now, concentrate!"

Harry looked at the apartments. Eleven…Thirteen. "But, Professor Moody, there is no—"

"Concentrate!"

"Oh, right." Harry squinted his eyes.

There was silence.

Someone snickered.

"Is something supposed to happen?" Harry asked.

Moody snorted. "Nah, I'm just messing with you." He then banged his staff twice on the cobbled street, and the building started to _move. _The air was suddenly full of the sound of breaking glass, crumpling iron, and earsplitting screams. Shrieks of 'EARTHQUAKE!' or 'REPENT YE SINNERS, THE APOCOLYPSE IS UPON US!' pierced the shrill squeal of car alarms.

The building finally crunched to a halt, revealing an extra apartment—Number twelve.

Lupin shook his head, smiling patronizingly. "And the Muggles never even notice."

"OH, MY LEG! I CAN'T FEEL MY _LEEEGGG_!!!"

Harry blinked. "So what is this place?"

Lupin gestured grandly. "Welcome, Harry, to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!"

* * *

Stepping into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry felt that there was something wrong. As he passed a wall of severed house elf heads, cracked mirrors, mysterious reddish stains running down the walls, and a lifesize cardboard cutout of Voldemort covered with lipstick stains, Harry couldn't help but feel that something was off. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Troll leg umbrella stand…creepy old portraits…voodoo dolls hanging from the ceiling by their necks…

Nope, still nothing.

"Harry!" shouted a voice from down the hall. Looking extremely out of place in all this gothic creepiness, Mrs. Weasley came barreling down the hallway, followed closely by Sirius.

"Ja—Harry, my favorite godson!" Sirius casually tried to elbow his way past Mrs. Weasley.

Molly, having none of it, kicked Sirius in the shin and leaped over his sprawled figure on the carpet. "Harry! So good to have you back!"

Sirius tripped Mrs. Weasley. "Harry, no one missed you more than me!" Not about to be outdone, Mrs. Weasley stumbled slightly, regained her balance, then sucker-punched Sirius in the stomach.

"Harrrrrrryyyyyyyyy!" With the unstoppable force of a runaway freight train, Mrs. Weasley barreled into Harry, enveloping him in a rib-cracking hug. "_I _missed you the most, Harry, dear!"

Panting, Sirius staggered to Harry's side. "Yeah, well, we all missed you," he grunted.

"It's so good to see you again Sirius!" said Harry excitedly. "You've got to tell me everything that's been happening!"

Mrs. Weasley giggled nervously. "Sirius, eh? You know, I could tell you—"

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "How're you holding up without Hedwig?"

Mrs. Weasley's eye twitched. "Had a lovely summer, did you?"

Harry grinned. "Oh, Hedwig's great, actually! Her soul has traveled from—"

Mrs. Weasley glared. "Here, Harry. I MADE YOU COOKIES!" She stuffed a handful in his mouth. "Why don't you go talk to Hermione and Ron? They're upstairs, first bedroom on the left. We've got to get back to the meeting!" Mrs. Weasley dragged Sirius away. "We'll see you soon, Harry!"

* * *

A bit confused, Harry climbed the stairs. He wasn't really sure that he wanted to see his friends again. After all, they had abandoned him during the summer. Full of conflicting emotions, Harry distractedly turned the doorknob and entered the room.

His vision was immediately obscured by a large quantity of bushy brown hair.

A loud screeching noise filled his ears and eight sharp claws dug into his face.

"Crookshanks! Bad Crookshanks, get off Harry's face! Bad, bad cat! We do not attack Harry!"

Two hands ripped the writhing, mewling ball of furry fury from Harry's head. Hermione, holding Crookshanks, smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that, Harry. I gave Crookshanks one of those **Potter the Nutter **dolls for a chew toy. And guess what, she's finally stopped ripping up Ron's socks now. Isn't that great?"

Harry slowly oozed blood from eight identical pinprick holes in his face. "Thrilling."

Ron smiled. "Hey, mate. We missed you over the summer."

Harry smiled mechanically. "Oh, really? Did you? Because, you know, you could have fooled me. Why haven't you been telling me what's going on?"

Hermione looked confused. "But we told you practically everything, Harry. The Order, Voldemort's activities, everything."

But Harry was feeling cranky and juvenile that day, and wasn't about to stop and listen to common sense. "You told me nothing! And why doesn't Dumbledore trust me enough to let me stay with you guys at headquaters?!"

Hermione coughed. "I think he mentioned something about you being a 'delicate boy'."

"Does he think I can't be trusted?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, you know that's not true."

"Or that I can't take care of myself?"

Hermione shuffled a bit. "Well…yes. You always have help, you know. Dumbledore drove Voldemort away after you'd fainted, Fawkes dropped in the sword, Ron and I helped you rescue Sirius, Moody gave you hints to win the cup, and all other sorts of deux ex machina appeared at just the right moment. You really are almost entirely helpless."

Harry's lips moved silently as he tried to figure out exactly what Hermione had just said. He was pretty sure he'd just been insulted, but it felt a little stupid to ask. Deux ex what? "Oh yeah? Well…how come you guys get to know everything that's going on?"

"We don't!" Ron interrupted, "Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young and they will scar us for life – "

Before he knew it, all the teenage angst, frustration, and turmoil reached a boiling point. Inside Harry a button was pushed—a button called Caps Lock. Harry kind of…exploded.

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT – WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? MORE THAN ONCE! WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SORRY SKINS FROM THE ASSORTED DEMENTORS, WEREWOLVES, BASILISKS, UNNATURALLY LARGE SPIDERS, DARK LORDS, DEATH EATERS, AND LONG-HAIRED BLONDE MEN WITH PIMP CANES ALL THESE YEARS, HUH? ME!"

Ron chuckled. "Well, let's not get carried away, here."

"I'M SICK OF YOUR UGLY SPECKLED MUG, RON! STOP BREATHING MY AIR!"

"Why do you hurt me this way, Harry?" said Ron in a small voice, his lip trembling.

"WHY SHOULDN'T I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WOULD ONE LITTLE OWL HAVE BEEN SUCH A BIG DEAL?! I'M TIRED OF BEING LEFT OUT, AND I…I…STOP THE WORLD, I WANT TO GET OFF!!! GRAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!!"

Hermione and Ron stared at him, open-mouthed. Hermione looked a little windswept. A piece of Ron's facial mold was blown away, flew backwards, and attached itself to a drapery. The skin of the two friends' faces rippled with the sheer awesome force of Harry's pent up aggression.

Harry stood there panting for a second. "Sorry, was that a bit much?"

"Just a little," said Hermione.

Ron squeaked.

"Harry," said Hermione carefully in the measured tone one uses only with dangerous animals and small children, "what have I told you about bottling up your feelings?"

Harry squinted. "Hmm…I think I slept through that Potions lesson. You've got the notes, right?"

Hermione sighed, satisfied that Harry was not going to go nuclear after all. "No, I mean bottling things up. You're so quiet and nice all the time, and you just take stuff. Sooner or later you just explode."

"Yeah! You're like a freaking volcano!" said Ron, wild-eyed and gesturing wildly.

"Exactly," Hermione added.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, like…WHOOOOOSHHHH—!"

Hermione glared. "Thank you, Ronald."

"—SHHHHHHHH! Like that, but with more WHOOO!"

Harry frowned. "So…you want me to be meaner?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Not exactly, just don't keep it all in. Express your feelings, say what's on your mind."

Harry smiled. "Oh, I can do that. Hermione, you use big words in foreign languages like deux ex machina and Latin, and…and…"

"Mexican food language," suggested Ron. "You know, taco…enchilada…Number Three chalupa with extra guacamole and spicy sauce…"

"You mean Spanish?" said Hermione incredulously.

Harry pointed. "Aha! Exactly what I mean! You say foreign crap and big words to make yourself feel special. A lot. And that's not all! Ron, you're just barely this side of mentally impaired, and you've got mold growing on your face. Your mum's mental, your dad is weird, your brothers are annoying, and your sister's face is all scrunchy-looking."

Hermione blinked. "Okay, forget that I mentioned that. Don't be honest anymore, Harry. A little selective bottling can, apparently, be a good thing."

Ron looked a bit stunned.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever. So, what is this place? And what's the Order of the Phoenix?"

"This is Sirius' family house, which he inherited after the rest of his family either died, went insane, joined the Dark Lord, or a combination of all three in no particular order. He's offered it as a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. The Order is basically the resistance against Voldemort, and it's headed by Dumbledore."

Ron grinned. "Fred and George told me why Dumbledore called it the Order of the Phoenix, too. You see, Dumbledore's brother had a thing for goats, but one day he meets this phoenix, right? It's love at first sight, but it's a forbidden love because…well…just because. And so nobody could know. But then, two weeks later, Dumbledore accidentally walks in—"

Across the room, Hermione had her fingers in her ears and was singing loudly. "PG-13! PG-13! LA LA LA LA LAAAA!"

"—And young Dumbledore is scarred for life. So, with the image of a phoenix permanently burned upon his retinas—"

"Wait, Fred and George told you all this?" interrupted Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, that's definitely not true. When are you going to learn not to trust Fred and George? This is why Dumbledore called it the Order of the Phoenix: although the fighters for justice may be trampled down, beaten to a pulp, and burned into ashes, the fight for freedom will continue on beyond the grave. Even though we may die, revolutionary spirit will live on, rising from the ashes of oppression and tyranny." Behind Hermione, a flag unrolled and patriotic music played.

Harry nodded. "Yeeeah…that's completely lame. I liked Ron's version better."

"Totally, ma—Hey, wait, YOU INSULTED MY FAMILY!" shouted Ron.

Hermione patted Ron's shoulder encouragingly. "Do try to keep up, Ronald."

"I…I try so hard." Ron sniffled. "And I do not have mold."

With a pop, the twins appeared.

"Stop doing that!" said Hermione angrily, stamping her foot.

"Hey, Harry! We thought we heard your dulcet tones," said George, beaming at him.

Harry grinned. "Hello Fred, George. Or…uh…George, Fred. You must have passed your apparaaaaa…GINNY!"

Ginny stood in the doorway, her teeth clenched. "Hello, Harry. I've been expecting you." She had the start of a unibrow growing proudly, her hair was unkempt, and her t-shirt had a large picture of Jane Goodall splashed across the front. "You'll pay for the years you took from my life, you chauvinistic pig!"

Harry laughed nervously as Ginny advanced. "Um…you look pretty today, Ginny. Ginny? No, NOT THE EYES! NOT MY MOTHER'S EMERALD GREEN EYES!"

* * *

A few hours later, everyone was seated around the dinner table. Hermione was painstakingly extracting pieces of bamboo from underneath Harry's fingernails.

Harry sniffled noisily. "…and then she quoted Frances Harper at me for hours. Then she called me a lot of long words that I didn't understand. Then she beat me with high heels so that I would feel the pain of the modern woman. Then she beat me with a half brick in a sock to represent the dismantling of the establishment of sexism and bigotry and the freedom of the modern woman. Then she gave up on symbolism and just started throwing stuff at me."

Ron nodded in sympathy. "Honestly, mate, she's been acting weird all summer. I don't know what's wrong with her. But she did let me make these cool signs, though." Ron held up a poster: _**DEATH TO PATRIARCHAL SOCIETY. **_It featured a man that bore a remarkable resemblance to Harry hanging from a noose and bleeding out of his eyesockets.

Hermione flinched. "Ooh, harsh. I think Ginny's really got it in for you, Harry."

Harry leaned back in his chair to see behind Ron. "You really think so?"

Across the table, Ginny was talking to Sirius.

"What do I want to do when I grow up? Wow, Sirius, what a great question," Ginny tapped her chin. "I'd like to euthanize all men, except for the few we keep around for hard labor and breeding purposes, of course; with a completely female society, I think we should have no trouble inventing reliable time travel and life extension up to at least 500 years, and at least 32 flavors of ice cream in the next twenty years."

Sirius choked on an artichoke. "Well, that's…Harry! I'm glad you're back. Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you. Have you seen The Daily Prophet recently?"

Harry's eye twitched slightly. "No. I haven't exactly been in the loop all summer. Thank you so much for reminding me."

Sirius frowned. "Then you'd better see this." He handed Harry a copy of The Prophet across the table.

"Of course it's complete rubbish!" Hermione laughed nervously.

Harry read the headline. _**Harry Potter, The Boy Who Cried Dark Lord**_. He flipped through the rest of the paper. _**Dumbledore: Is He Sucking More Than Lemon Drops? Rita Skeeter Reports; pg. 5, Summer Series Continued—Reason Number 53 That We Should All Mock Harry Potter: He's Deformed. I Mean, Look At That Hideous Scar, Just Sitting There On His Forehead In All Its Hideousness. Do You Want Your Children To See That Scar? Cont. pg. 6**_

Harry read one out loud. "_**In a Tale Worthy of That Loser, Notorious Petty Thief Mundungus Fletcher Stated That He 'Did Not Know How That Warehouse Full of Small, Unmarked Bills Had Appeared Behind His House'.**_ What do they mean, That Loser? Poor sod, getting called out like that. Oh well, at least it takes some heat off of me, right?" Harry elbowed Ron amiably.

Ron coughed. "Er, That Loser is _you_, mate."

Hermione nodded. "They've started calling any unlikely story 'a tale worthy of That Loser'. Sorry."

"And it's not just The Prophet," stated Sirius gravely, "it seems that everyone but _The Quibbler _is certain that you're mad."

"And Voldemort is using it to his advantage," said Hermione, "encouraging the newspapers to smear you name, planting his followers, and waiting." Hermione shrugged, "That's all we know right now."

"Because some of us weren't allowed in meetings," grumbled Ron.

"There's so much to tell!" said Sirius excitedly, "Oh, forget the statute of secrecy. You've got to hear this, James!"

"Harry. I'm Harry. Harry Potter?"

Sirius waved a hand vaguely. "Yes, yes, of course, Jame…I mean Harry."

"Really, I've got the scar to prove it."

"Very nice, James, but I'm trying to tell a story now." Sirius leaned in closer to the trio, and whispered loudly. "Voldemort's working on something important, something new. Something he can only get by stealth. Something he didn't have last time." Sirius raised an eyebrow mysteriously.

Ron frowned. "Like what, a sense of humor?"

"Matching leather jackets?"

"A condo in San Trope?"

"A _nose_?"

"Do you mean a weapon?" Harry asked intensely.

"Well!" Mrs. Weasley interjected, "before Sirius spills the Order's every secret, isn't it time you kids started on that cleaning?" said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

"Can't we wait until after? It'll only take a minute," pleaded Ron.

"Hey, did you know that Dumbledore named us the Order of the Phoenix because this one time, his brother and this phoenix—"

"CLEAN, NOW!" Mrs. Weasley shoved an array of cleaning implements in the trio's faces and shooed them out of the dining room.

"—Hey wait, you're missing the best part!"

* * *

Ron wiped a rag across a musty end table, kicking up a cascade of dust. "Erg, this place is filthy!"

Harry squirted the curtain liberally with Doxy spray. "Tell me about it. And what are we supposed to do with all this old junk? Weird little keys that don't unlock anything, big black books that don't open, and this rusty old locket—what a load of rubbish!" Harry threw the locket into a drawer. It landed with a particularly loud thump, as if it were weighed down with evil and mystery. "Like any of this old stuff could ever be important!"

At that moment, the universe nearly exploded from the sheer force of all that foreshadowing crammed into one moment.

Oblivious to her near doom, Hermione carefully levitated a skull from the shelf towards a carboard box of mysterious artifacts. "Mrs. Weasley just told us to sweep things up a little and get rid of anything we think might be a dark artifact. After all, with the people that used to live here, we can't be too careful. RONALD!"

Ron had grabbed the skull out of the air and struck a dramatic pose. "Hey Herms, guess who I am: _I ask to be, or not to be!_"

"Hamlet! I mean Ronald! That is not an intelligent thing to do! Don't you realize that skull could be cursed?" Hermione gasped breathlessly.

"Wrong, I'm Beowulf, the Impaler!" said Ron, "Fancy you not knowing that, Hermione. See, I've been reading up on my classics. Ginny says it's important to im-pruv der mi-nnd." Ron tapped his head knowingly. Although Harry could have imagined it, it seemed for a moment that there was a hollow sort of echoing sound.

Hermione nodded. "Of course, Ron. Oh, I say, look at this bookcase! It can't have been dusted in the last fifty years."

"Nasty filth polluting my mistresses' house. If only she knew! Oh she would turn in her grave." A dry, creaking voice grumbled close to the ground. A house elf was standing behind them, glaring at Ron and Hermione.

Ron frowned. "Well there's no cause for that. It's only a bookcase after all. Can't help it if it's dirty."

The elf glowered. "Kreacher hopes the scum's tiny brains will drip from its ears."

Ron laughed in triumph. "Aha! But bookcases don't have ears!"

"Mudbloods and bloodtraitors, running their slimy hands over mistresses' treasures!"

"Kreacher, that's enough of your bile!" said Sirius confidently, striding into the room. "I see that you've met our charming little friend here. Unfortunately, he comes with the house and it's quite impossible to get rid of him. What exactly are you doing here, Kreacher?"

Kreature offered Sirius a sickly sweet smile. "Kreacher is cleaning, master. Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black."

"And it's getting blacker every day," said Sirius, who suddenly snorted with laughter.

Kreacher sighed. "Oh, how Master loves to tell his little jokes. Again. And again."

"Get it? Black?! 'Cause it's dirty!"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron quickly and quietly turned back to their cleaning.

"Someone _really _needs to get him out of the house."

"Ahaha! It's funny!"

Kreacher quickly slipped a small object on a chain into his pocket. He had promised Master Regulus. He had promised…

* * *

"That's it! I can't take it anymore!" said Harry, holding a moldering pillow over his ears. "If he tells that joke one more time…"

"This place is filthy. But what do you expect…OUR LAST NAME IS BLACK! Ahaha!"

Hermione sighed. "Alright. I say one of us takes him somewhere else and distracts him so the rest of us can get this work done."

"Or get rid of our shooting migraines," suggested Harry, somewhat muffled by the pillow.

Hermione and Ron stared at each other for a moment. Harry mostly stared at his pillow.

"All in favor of Harry? Aye!"

"Eye!"

"It's 'aye' Ronald. With an 'a'."

"AaaaaAAAaaaayuh?"

"Close enough. Harry, we're voting you off the island," said Hermione, snatching the pillow from Harry's head and shoving him off in Sirius' direction. "Go distract him."

Harry goggled at her. "But what am I supposed to do?"

"Sing a song, do a dance, I don't really care. Just get him out of here!" said Hermione.

Harry stumbled forward, nearly crashing into Sirius.

"Hey, hey Harry! Do you wanna hear a joke?" giggled Sirius.

"Um, not right now. Why don't…uh…" Think, Harry, think! How can you distract him? Harry knew that he couldn't sing or dance. He couldn't quote The Tempest or the periodic table like Hermione, or make recite Chuddley Cannons stats and list his family tree like Ron. What could he do? Family…family! "Uh…tell me about your family," said Harry quickly, thinking fast.

"Ah, the noble house of Black," said Sirius. He stifled a giggle. "Black, yes, right. Here, do you want to see my family tree?" Sirius led Harry to a room sporting a large tapestry with generations of floating heads embroidered with heavy thread.

"'Toujours Pur'."

"FOR THE LAST TIME, MY NAME IS HARRY!"

"'Toujours Pur' is my family motto."

Harry sighed. "My family doesn't have a motto. Except perhaps 'Why Must the Good Die Young?!"

"'Toujours Pur'," continued Sirius, ignoring Harry, "It means Always Pure. You can't imagine what it was like to grow up in an all-pure household. It was awful Harry, the expectation to get 100 on every test, and always having to drink 100 orange juice. The pulpy feeling stays with you _for weeks_."

Harry gagged involuntarily. "That sounds horrible, Sirius."

"On your tongue…all pulpy…Anyways, life as a Black was often a hard one. There's my father, my brother Regulus, and my mother. Charming woman…she did this when I left home." Sirius pointed to a scorch mark above the name 'Phineas Black'."

Harry squinted in confusion. "But who's Phineas Black?"

Sirius waved his hand. "Oh, my great grand uncle/fourth cousin I think. She meant to hit me, but she missed. Phineas threw a horrible tantrum when he found out."

"Wait, your great uncle and your fourth cousin?"

Sirius nodded. "Oh yeah. Blacks take pure bloodlines _really _seriously. The Black family is completely inbred, descended from the Amish people of Pennsylvania County, Pennsylvania. Most of us are cross-eyed, retarded, or hideously ugly. Ah yes, we in the Black family wore our revolting deformities as a badge of honor and purity. My brother had a gimpy leg," said Sirius proudly.

"Did he really?" said Harry vaguely. He was examining Sirius family tree more closely now. It was an absolute mess. Multiple lines zigzagged across the tapestry from one cousin to another, sometimes doubling back to touch on a sister or two. Harry peered more closely at Delphos Black. Or five?

"We haven't had more than twenty people on our family tree in two centuries," said Sirius.

Harry frowned. "But how is that…?"

"I think I hear Molly calling an Order meeting!" said Sirius quickly. "I'll see you later, Harry!"

"But I want to learn!" called Harry after Sirius' fleeing figure. As people started to apparate in the main hall, it seemed that Sirius had not been lying after all. There was going to be a meeting. Perhaps Harry could overhear something more about Voldemort!

Harry, never a master at stealth, threw a tapestry over his head and walked out into the crowd.

A few people stared at him oddly, but no one bothered him. After all, the boy was clearly insane, and Dumbledore did not pay them enough to be in the Order…I mean…their love of the Truth and Justice was not so blind that they would confront someone that The Prophet called 'A Ticking Pipe-Bomb'.

Harry managed to overheard snatches of conversation.

"…and then I said, 'Of course it's filthy, 'cause I'm a Black!'"

"…I seem to have misplaced my pocket watch, so I'm going to blame Voldemort…"

"…very droll, I'm sure, but I can't see how Dumbledore expects the Order…"

Harry gasped. He recognized that last voice. But no, it couldn't be!

"…and I, Snape, the Potions Master, to carry out such a ridiculous plan."

Oh no, it was Snape! But he couldn't possibly be in the Order! He's evil! And he has terrible hair.

"Oh, Albus, we're so glad that you could come."

Harry perked up. Dumbledore? At last!

"Is…is he gone, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley laughed nervously. "Well, no Albus. I won't throw him out on the street."

"Could you for just a second? I really don't want to run into…"

Harry threw off the tapestry and spread his arms wide. "Professor!"

Dumbledore suddenly screeched, dashing quickly from the room, out the door, and down the street. "RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!"

Harry's face fell as he watched Dumbledore running off into the night. "Professor?" Harry tried to inconspicuously sniff himself. "Do I offend?"

* * *

That night, Harry dreamed in weird and ambitious camera angles. In his mind's eye, he saw a dark paneled wall, shelves of misty crystal balls, a slithering snake, glowing red eyes—

—And then suddenly he was back at the cemetery, rolling haphazardly down a hill, landing at the bottom muddy and disoriented with Cedric at his side.

The night air was full of the sound of crickets, the rustling of grass in the wind, and mysterious background music.

Cedric spat out a clump of grass, oblivious to the background music. "What? Hey, the cup was a Portkey! They didn't tell us there would be a second part to this challenge. This is totally skip!"

An owl hooted mysteriously, and from somewhere in the darkness there was the crunching of evil boots on the frosted lawn.

Harry gulped as the footsteps got louder. "Cedric, there are four problems with what you just said. One: who says 'skip'? Honestly. Two: Wh…hat? What's going on? Ced…Cedric? Cedric?! CEDRIC, YOU'RE ALIVE!" He rushed Cedric, throwing him into a full frontal man-hug. "I missed you so much…all my fault…crippling guilt complex…" Harry stopped hugging for a moment to twitch convulsively.

A high cold voice suddenly laughed from somewhere in the darkness. "Kill the spare."

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

In a flash of green light, Cedric dropped like a stone onto the lawn.

"NOOO!" Harry lamented, "Why must I lose you again?"

Cedric suddenly sat up. "But you haven't lost me, Harry."

Harry was transfixed on Cedric. "But you died. Twice. I saw it."

Cedric blinked. "Oh, really? Hey, what happened after I died?"

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore called you a bitch at your funeral. And Cho stole all your possessions and built a shrine to you in the Girls' Bathroom. I visit it sometimes at night to honor your memory and graffiti stuff. Basically, everyone pretty much forgot you within a week. Now everyone follows that new Czechoslovakian kid, Sidney, that hangs out in hedges."

Cedric blinked. "Oh. Well that sucks."

Voldemort suddenly appeared inbetween them. "What? Alive?"

"What? Stupid?" said Cedric.

"It cannot be! My powers are supreme! _Avada Kedavra!_"

Cedric absorbed the green light calmly. "Is that honestly the best you've got? I've seen better Avadra Kedavras from my grandmother. And she's dead."

"I WLL NOT BE MOCKED! _Avada Kedavra_!"

"Seriously, dude. This is just embarrassing."

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Cedric turned to face Harry. "Well, I'd better go now, or poor old Voldie here is going to give himself a coronary."

Voldemort's face was bright red and all the veins on his neck stood out. "AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVA…AVADA…KED…KERRR…"

"Bye, Harry!" said Cedric cheerfully, then immediately dropped stone dead.

"NO, CEDRIC, NO! _WHY?!_"

Harry's neck twitched fiercely, and he jerked himself awake.

Ron was sitting on the end of his bed, looking down at him, concerned.

Harry was soaked in sweat. As he sat up, he made a slight squelching sound.

"Ron?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What are you doing on my bed?"

"Sorry, Harry."

"Good night, Ron."

"Good night, Harry."

**

* * *

**

When Harry woke again the next morning, the sun was in his eyes. It was the day of his trial, and he could honestly say that he had never dreaded anything more in his life. Well, except for the last challenge. Or entering the Chamber of Secrets. Or going to Potions class on a daily basis. Or going out in public.

Sorry, scratch that. Harry had dreaded many things more in his life than his upcoming trial, however, he felt really really bad about it.

"But Mr. Weasley, what am I going to say?" asked Harry and he and Mr. Weasley walked through downtown London to the Ministry of Magic.

"The truth, Harry. They'll have to believe you. There's no better defense than fact, is there?"

"True, but I am widely considered to be a dangerous nutcase."

Arthur Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder. "Nonsense, Harry! Well, actually that's true. But I believe you, and the Order believes you, and that's all that matters, eh?"

Harry, not exactly comforted, waited calmly for traffic at the DON'T WALK sign. "I don't know Mr…MR. WEASLEY!"

Mr. Weasley was now walking around in the middle of traffic. Taxis and motorcyclists rushed past him at breakneck speeds, narrowly missing him by inches. "Look, Harry, look at the automobiles! Aren't they fascinating? What makes them work, I wonder? Do they really draw from the power of horses?"

"Mr. Weasley, you get out of traffic right this instant!" shouted Harry.

"No, that's alright, Harry, I'll just ask this gentleman." Arthur stepped in front of a moving taxi. "Felicitations, kind Muggle! Might I bother you with a question?'

"Hey, what you think you doin' man?! Whaddaya want?"

"My goodness, sir, are you a cousin of Hagrid's?"

The cabbie then uttered some choice words. Mr. Weasley's smile remained intact.

"How lovely! Native dialect! Wait till the guys back at the Ministry hear about this!" He turned and gave Harry a thumbs up. "And what amazing machinery! Yes, sir, could you tell me—where do you keep your horses?"

"You want me to tell you where you can keep your horses?"

Mr. Weasley waved a hand, laughing, as Harry dragged him away. "Goodbye, friend!"

Harry sighed. "Mr. Weasley, are we close to the Ministry yet?"

"Nearly there, my boy, nearly there! Oh, hey wait, what's this contraption?" Arthur stopped by the side of the road.

Harry cleared his throat and tried to hide behind the collar of his coat. "That's a parking meter."

Mr. Weasley stared at it, enraptured. "And what is its function?"

Harry blinked. "Uh…you put coins in it?"

"But why would you want to do that?" Asked Mr. Weasley, wide-eyed.

"So you can park here?"

Mr. Weasley stared at Harry blankly. "Really. Fancy that. Ooh, and what about this, eh? What's this one, Harry? Do this one!"

A group of passing elderly women looked at Mr.Weasley oddly.

"Uh, let's go, Mr. Weasley."

"No, wait, one more, I promise that's it! Harry, what's _this _one?!" Mr. Weasley stood in front of a mailbox, enraptured.

"It's a mailbox. For putting mail into."

Mr. Weasley grinned. "Ha! I imagine getting this clunky old thing to fly must be quite a feat! Oh, those muggles!"

Mr. Weasley stopped in front of a telephone booth.

"This is a telephone booth, Mr. Weasley. It's for making telephone calls in."

Arthur stared at Harry. "Of course it's a telephone booth. What do you think I am, an idiot? However, it also happens to be the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Here, get inside."

Harry and Mr. Weasley stepped into the box, and Mr. Weasley picked up the receiver. "Let's see…six…two…four…and another four…and another two…"

A cool female voice sounded inside the telephone booth, not from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them. Harry looked around carefully just to make sure. Who knows, he might get lucky. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing…"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of a metal chute. Harry held up the square silver badge in order to see it clearly. _Harry Potter, Dangerous Nutcase_.

"Please remain seated," said the cool female voice, "Keep your hands and arms inside the cabin at all times. Please place your trays in the upright position and note that the seatbelt light is on. In case of an emergency, your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device."

The box started to rumble. All the lights went out.

"Mr. Weasley, what's going on? Are we about to take off?" asked Harry in a small voice.

"Nonsense, boy! It's just an elevator. Fancy you not knowing that!" Mr. Weasley shook his head sadly.

The elevator descended quickly, finally opening into a large hall.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic!" said Mr. Weasley.

Harry's mouth fell open. They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols and the walls were cut into built-in gilded fireplaces. People bustled about in brightly colored robes; Harry even recognized some of them from The Prophet. But the most impressive thing about the room was the fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a wizard, cackling over a chained and screaming witch and goblin, stomping on a house elf, and whipping a centaur. Jets of sparkling water poured from what appeared to be the severed heads of the wizard's foes.

A plaque glinted from the bottom of the pool:

_All proceeds from the Foundation of the Supreme Wizard Triumphing Over All Inferior Life will be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

"Oh," said Harry. "How disturbing."

"Come along, Harry. No time for dawdling!" Mr. Weasley pulled Harry into an elevator, saying good morning to various people along the way. Harry noticed that people seemed to be glaring at him, for some reason. Why? Did he have something on his face?

The elevator was packed, but extremely silent. Actually, it didn't really seem very crowded on his side of the elevator, just on the other side. In fact, his side was rather roomy. The people on the other side looked a little squished. Soft freeform jazz played from some unseen speaker. Someone cleared their throat. Someone coughed.

"Er…there's plenty of room over here."

Jazz. Cough. Silence.

"…If anyone's interested," Harry finished lamely.

"Dangerous nutcase…" someone muttered in the back of the elevator, "…probably rabies…no, I didn't hear…"

On the other side of the elevator, Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to be whispering sweet nothings into Arthur Weasley's ear.

"Yes…no…really? Well we'll have to hurry then. Thank you, Kingsley."

"No problem, my love."

"Harry," said Mr. Weasley, "your trial has been moved up."

"Really? When is it?"

Mr. Weasley looked visibly shaken. "In five minutes."

"Where is it?"

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "The deepest, darkest dungeon of course. What did you expect? There is a dramatic ambiance to uphold, you know."

Harry gulped.

The elevator finally dinged to a halt.

The same cool female voice spoke. "Department of Mysteries. _May God Have Mercy On Your Soooooouuls!"_

Harry stepped out of the elevator and stared at the door at the end of the hall. The door…the door! It called to him! As if listening to an inner voice, Harry suddenly went limp, and fell thrashing to the floor, his eyes glowing strangely red. He flailed across the floor madly towards the door…

"Now, now, Harry. I know you're nervous, but now is not the time to be acting crazy if you catch my meaning," whispered Arthur loudly.

Harry drooled, and his neck twitched fiercely.

"Harry? Are you all right? Your head practically went all the way around that time, and if you're going to pull an Exorcist on me, then I'm getting out of here."

Harry suddenly blinked. "Huh? What?"

Mr. Weasley sighed in relief. "Oh good. You should really look into some medication for that, Harry. Now, are you ready for your trial?"

Harry stared at him.

"No? Okay, good, well, off you go then!" Mr. Weasley pushed Harry into a large, dark room and slammed the door shut.

"Mister…Mister Weasley?"

Harry looked up and gasped. "Oh." He was in a huge room made of cold, dark stone. In the back of the room about thirty witches and wizards in scarlet and black robes were staring down at him seriously. Behind them The Pit of Hell spit and blazed menacingly. That's probably where they threw losers! Harry gulped—the Fire of Doom threw the jury members' faces in sharper relief. Looking closer at the faces of his jury, Harry hadn't realized that his trial was so important. In attendance were Cornelius Fudge, all the members of the Wizengamot, Tony Blair, The Pope, Abraham Lincoln, Mahatmas Gandhi, Alexander the Great, Moses, and Stonewall Jackson.

Tough crowd.

"Sorry I'm late," said Harry nervously.

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," a cold voice rang out.

Harry blinked. "Er…yes it is. You changed the times."

"Insubordination! Take your seat, young Potter!"

Harry sat down cautiously in a heavily chained chair.

"Now," said Cornelius Fudge, who was looking very stern and slightly ridiculous in a strange fish-shaped hat, "that the defendant is present—finally—we may begin. Weatherby, take notes."

Percy looked on the verge of tears. "Yes, sir. Percy, sir. Right away, sir. And it's Percy, actually. Sir."

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge, ignoring Percy, "into offenses committed under the Decree of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald—"

Someone snickered in the back.

"—I heard that! Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia…blah blah blah. We already know who we are, what date it is, and what this is about. All in favor of life in Azkaban say aye! All not in favor will be thrown into The Pit of Hell. All in favor?"

"Just a moment, Minister!" rang a strange, warbly voice from the back of the room. "You seem to be forgetting someone. Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Brian?" murmured the unseen Oswald snickerer, "What kind of a name is Brian?"

"Is that you, Gandhi?"

Dumbledore was here at last! Harry craned his neck around to have a look. Sure enough, there was Dumbledore in all his long, silver-haired, half moon spectacled, crooked-nosed, lemon drop-sucking glory. Harry tried to catch his eye, but Dumbledore seemed to be looking at something very interesting on the floor. That was odd, Harry didn't see anything.

"Ah," said Fudge, in the manner of a person that doesn't really know what to say. "Ah. Yes, well. I see that you — er — got our message that the time and — er — place of the hearing had been changed. How lovely." Fudge leaned over and whispered to Percy angrily. "I told you not to send that!"

Percy nodded miserably. "Yes, Minister, I have the notes here. But I believe your exact words were: 'And put the trial down in the deepest, darkest dungeon, you know, the one from the Spanish Inquisition. Ha! They never expect the Spanish Inquisition! And make sure that old bas—"

"Yes, yes, that's enough, Weatherby!"

Dumbledore smiled. "I must have missed it, actually. However, due to a lucky mistake, I have been camping out in the Ministry for three weeks now, so no harm done. And I planted chips in the brains of my old Wizengamot colleges."

"What?!"

"FOR THE GREATER GOOD!" For a moment, Dumbledore's eyes shone with a fanatical fervor. "Now, please, continue."

Fudge looked a little flustered. "I will not be told how to run my own court! Now…let's, er, continue. So. The charges. Right? Yes? Has somebody got the charges?"

There was a great deal of paper rustling.

"Ah, yes, here we are. The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area in the presence of a Muggle."

Fudge peered over his glasses sternly at Harry. "You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge glared, daring Harry to argue.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No. I'm some random guy that got plastic surgery to look like him, dresses in his clothes, talks with his voice, and got a convenient Dark Lord to _brand a distinctive scar upon the living flesh of my forehead_! Does that answer your question?"

Fudge looked a little startled. "Yes, well, fine. But, did you receive an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, or did you not?"

"Well, yes, but it wasn't—"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.

"Yes," said Harry. "But…"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside of school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but…!"

"Knowing you were in an area full of muggles and in the presence of a muggle?"

"Yes, but I only used it because we were—"

"And did you or did you not attempt to take over Britain fifteen years ago?"

"Um…actually, that was Voldemort."

"SILENCE, POTTER!"

The witch with a monocle, Madam Bones, on Fudge's left cut across him in a booming voice. "You produced a fully fledge Patronus?"

Harry blinked. "Bit slow, aren't you?"

The witch blushed.

"Yes, I did."

"A corporeal Patronus?"

Harry frowned. "Uh…big word. Help?"

"Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? It was more than vapor or smoke."

Harry nodded. "Yes, it's a stag. It's always a stag. Has been for two years."

Madam Bones nodded in approval. "A true Patronus at such a young age…very impressive. Could you reproduce this spell now?"

"Uh…" Harry was sweating heavily. "STOP PRESSURING ME!"

Fudge harrumphed in annoyance. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. Potter here still conjured the Patronus…"

"Only because of the dementors!" Harry blurted out.

"Dementors?" said Madam Bones after a moment. "Impossible."

"It's not! There were two dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin!"

"Ha!" laughed Fudge, looking around for support. "We thought we'd hear something like this. A tall tale indeed, Potter. But why would dementors be after you?"

Harry tapped his chin. "Hmmm…maybe because…oh, I don't know…Voldemort wants to kill me?!"

Fudge frowned. "I'll have none of that talk in here! Well, since you have no witnesses—"

Dumbledore stepped up. "Actually, we do."

Harry looked over at Dumbledore. "About time you said something. Some legal counsel you are."

Dumbledore examined the ceiling.

"Um…Professor?" Harry waved his hand in front of Dumbledore's face. "Professor?"

Dumbledore held up a hand, shielding his eyes. "Yes, bring out the Figg!"

The giant doors of the Inquisitorial Room swooshed open, revealing Mrs. Figg. She ambled slowly to the witness stand, wheeling that small suitcase behind her.

_Squeeeeaky. Squeeeaky. Squeeeaky._

Tensions were already high in the room, and the suitcase we like a nail file on already stretched nerves.

Fudge flinched at every squeak. "Yes, Mrs. Arabella Doreen—"

"You know, this is cool. I totally get to find out everybody's middle names. We should do this more often," commented Harry to Dumbledore.

"Not listening!" shouted Dumbledore. "Go ahead, Mrs. Figg. What did you see?"

"Well, it was the…let's see…yes, the tenth of August."

"HarrrhaarrruummppphhNINTH!" coughed Dumbledore loudly. "Sorry about that. Weak larynx. Do continue."

"Yes, the _ninth_ of August, I do recall, do I? Yes, I do! And I was walking down Magnolia…er" She stopped to look down at something written on her hand. The writing looked very familiar to Harry. Sort of a loopy, cursive scrawl. Now where had he seen that before?

"…Yes, Magnolia Crescent, when I heard a disturbance and saw some dementors running away…"

"Dementors do no run, dear, they glide," said Madam Bones.

"Right! That's what I meant. Gliding along after what looked like two girls."

"Girls?'

"Boys! I meant boys! Yes, they were very male. I saw it all."

Fudge raised an eyebrow. "What, were they nudists? Come on, fellow members of the Wizengamot, you can't seriously be buying this!"

"What did they look like?" asked Madam Bones, narrowing her eyes, which causes her monocle to pop out and roll under the Inquisitorial desk. She quickly retrieved it, and stuck it back in her eye.

Fudge grimaced. "Really, Amelia."

"Ten second rule," said Madam Bones defiantly. "Anyway, what did they look like?"

"Well, one was very large, and the other one rather skinny…"

"What? Oh, no, no! I mean the dementors," said Madam Bones impatiently.

"Can a witness be excused for being too much of an idiot to testify?" asked Fudge loudly.

"Well," said Mrs. Figg, turning red, but trying to concentrate. "Big."

Dumbledore slapped his forehead.

Madam Bones sighed. "Big. Wonderful. And?"

Mrs. Figg looked panicked. "Well, big and…sort of…tallish, really."

Dumbledore interrupted. "Did they perhaps, and this is just a question, make you feel as if all the happiness in the world had been sucked away?"

Mrs. Figg lit up and pointed excitedly. "Yes, yes, exactly that!"

"Hmmm…" said Madam Bones, "Interesting."

"BUT HE TOLD HER!" wailed Fudge miserably.

"I see no need for further evidence," said Madam Bones. "It clearly points to dementor attack."

"Clearly," agreed Dumbledore.

"But what do you propose that such dementors were doing in Little Whinging?" said Fudge pointedly.

'Well, of course—" started Dumbledore.

"Eh Ehm," interjected a small, sugary voice emphatically.

"The chair recognizes Dolores Jane Umbridge," said Fudge.

"Oh don't be so full of yourself, Cornelius, we all clearly recognize her. It's not as if we haven't known her for ten years!" said Madam Bones irritably.

Dolores Umbridge continued to speak in a fluttery, girlish voice that was completely opposite of her squat, toady appearance. "I'm sure I misunderstood you, Professor, but it sounds as if you are accusing the Ministry of sending dementors to attack this boy."

She gave a little silvery giggle that set Harry's teeth on edge. Harry's Potter Senses were tingling. This woman was evil. _Pure evil._

"Not at all, Dolores. Not the Ministry, anyways," said Dumbledore staring somewhere off to Harry's left.

"You're not suggesting…" raged Fudge indignantly.

"But I am! It's Voldemort that has their loyalty, not you."

"How dare you suggest such a thing, stirring up panic and interfering with this trial!" Fudge was practically exploding with fudgy fury.

"There was nothing to interfere with, Cornelius," said Dumbledore calmly, "under no existing law can Harry reasonably be ruled guilty."

"LAWS CAN BE CHANGED!" shouted Fudge.

Everyone scooted a few more inches away from PowerCrazy!Fudge.

"Excuse me, but if you two are done quibbling now, we do have a hearing to finish. If it's not too much trouble?" said Madam Bones, raising an eyebrow, which causes her monocle to fall out again. "Oh, Merlin's pants!"

"All in favor of complete acquittal say aye." Recited Percy dutifully.

A chorus of ayes filled the room.

"All opposed?"

"Aye?" said the lone Fudge. Umbridge raised her hand promptly.

"Very good. Case dismissed, Potter is cleared of all charges."

At last! Harry was so full of excitement he thought he might just explode. He wasn't going to be expelled! He could go to Hogwarts and have more happy little adventures with his special friends!

Harry jumped out of his seat to celebrate. "Oh, Professor! You were wonderful! Just like Atticus Finch! Or Matlock!"

Dumbledore quickly closed his eyes and sprinted from the room, screaming. "I'M NOT LOOKING! I'M NOT LOOKING!"

Harry stared after Dumbledore. Something was seriously rotten in Denmark. Or London, you know. Same difference.

**

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_**Oddly**_


	47. NOTE TO READERS

We know our promises of keeping updates regular have gone off the train tracks a couple times, but we just wanted to inform you that any kind of update won't be plausible until around Christmas, currently we are enrolled in a Creative Writing class (among other extracurricular fall school things) and the class calls us to write a piece a week, so there's really no time to write anything else.

On another note, we have been receiving _tons_ of alerts that our story has been selected by you fine readers as a favorite or on your alert list. We are VERY pleased that our writings amuse you, but the level of reviews aren't adding up to the MANY alerts we're getting. Normally we wouldn't point this out, because we never liked the kind of authors that nagged their readers to reply, but when we're getting one—two if lucky—reviews for every chapter and then ten alerts, that makes us a little…mad. So we're going to say this now, and hope that we won't have to repeat it because it makes us feel a little guilty we're screaming at you: Please, if we can write over twenty pages for each chapter, could you please write us a sentence to tell us your opinion? We go off of your guys' mood, if you want us to add something in, bring something back, cut something out, we probably will. Just tell us.

That's all, Siriusly will be trying very hard to get a chapter out before Christmas, but if not, please be patient, we'll return!

_**-Siriusly, and Oddly**_


	48. LAST NOTE

Sorry guys, we had a good run. I'm not going to give a lot of fake excuses, we are very busy with school and our interest is waning. Who knows, maybe we'll return, but don't expect it. Thanks for your reviews and comments, it helped us become better writers. That Loser is for now offline.

**_-Siriusly and Oddly_**


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